Across the Sea
by Winam
Summary: An alternative take on the first proposal, and its consequences. Based on the 2006 series.
1. Chapter 1

**This is inspired by the 2006 series and less so by the novel. As always, reviews are welcome.  
**

* * *

**Across the Sea**

**By Winam**

_These characters are over 150 years old so they aren't mine, however much I want them to be!_

**Revelation**

_**= 1 =**_

I awoke in a wave of nausea, the world swaying to and fro. Sitting up, I saw that my candle had not completely burned out, and in its dim light I could distinguish the small cot that I laid in, the small wash-stand crammed beside it, the creaking, windowless hole that was my home for the voyage across the Irish Sea.

We had sailed from Liverpool in darkness, but perhaps it was now morning? Seized with a longing to see the sea, I dressed and made for the deck. In the faint light of dawn, I saw it – a turbulent, endless body of water – an insuperable barrier that struck dread into my already desolate heart – a barrier from my home at Thornfield – and from my beloved master.

Was it only three days ago that he announced his engagement to Miss Blanche Ingram, and that I was to leave him? To be sure, my leaving had been imminent ever since Miss Ingram's arrival at Thornfield, hence by the time we walked in the park on that warm summer's evening I was more than ready for the axe to fall. But the anticipation had not eased the pain of severance from all I held dear. And when it came, I was not at all composed.

"Ireland is a long a way away, sir, from Thornfield." I cried despairingly, "It is along way away from _you_, sir."

My plea seemed to strike a chord in him, for he prompted me to sit beside him. Our very closeness caused my tears to fall, knowing that the sea, on top of wealth, caste and custom, would soon separate us. My heart churned in agony. It did not help that Mr. Rochester was exceedingly kind, offering me his handkerchief when he saw my tears, and when I refused, saying so very gently, "We've been good friends, haven't we Jane?"

When I did not reply, he continued, "It's difficult to part from a friend you know you will never meet again. And you and I, it's like we're a pair of Eshton's twins, bound together in some unworldly way – sharing a spirit – we're so alike!"

His sincere declaration cut through me like a knife, for it rang true. I had felt a bond with him since our earliest conversations – when I glimpsed vulnerability beneath the sternness as he told me of the wrong path he had taken, how his once pure conscience had been sullied by sin. This bond had strengthened with each look imparted, with each conversation shared, with each act performed, so that I was as convinced as he that we did share the same spirit – indeed, we shared the same soul.

"When we are parted – when _you_ leave me – I believe that bond will snap, and I will bleed inwardly. You will forget me after a while."

What did he…? How could he…?

Aghast, I stood and cried, "I would never forget you! How can you imagine that? Who do you think I am? I wish I had never been born, I wish I had never come here! I wish I had never grown to love Thornfield!"

The tears rushed from me now – I could not stop them. "I love Thornfield. I love it because I have lived a full life. I have not been trampled on. I have been treated as an equal – _you_ have treated me as an equal."

I gazed at his dear face, a face so familiar to me, so entirely beloved.

"You are the best person I know. And I can't bear the thought of having to leave you."

Then he said a strange thing. "Must you leave me Jane?"

"Of course I must – because you have a wife!"

"What do you-?"

He froze, and then gave me a curious smile. "Jane… You are very astute – you have guessed it."

"Guessed what?" I cried indignantly.

"You guessed that I have a wife."

I stared at him. "How can that be? There is no Mrs. Rochester!"

He smiled sardonically. "You have seen her handiwork – how she tore Mason to shreds and nearly burned me in my bed. That demon was not Grace Poole, Jane – it was my wife!"

It cannot be! But I saw that it was – the truth was plainly written upon his face.

Then it became clear: his dark past, his wanderings, his desperate need for redemption, perhaps the very reason why he sought me.

It was all to be free from her!


	2. Chapter 2

**Now if that wasn't tantalising enough a start, then how about this?**

* * *

_**= 2 =**_

I closed my eyes. I felt the world cave in around me, felt my trust in him sink into the abyss.

"You lied to me."

He sighed, but did not answer.

"And so your engagement to Miss Ingram is also false?"

"Yes."

I gazed again at his face, except that it had become a stranger's. Then I realised that I had been right months before: I _was_ mistaken – he could not love me.

Humiliation coursed through me, and then the beginnings of anger at his betrayal.

"Why?"

"If you knew that Grace Poole was in charge of a fiend, would you have stayed? If you knew that I had a wife, would we have grown so close? Would we have become friends? Would you have… cared for me?"

Would I? I could only tell him the truth. "I don't know."

He breathed in deeply.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you, Jane, but I know that you would not have stayed above a week if you knew of her existence. Only Grace knows that she is my wife, and that was out of plain necessity."

But I thought of another who might have known. "What about Mason?"

His face grew grim. "Yes, he knows. Because Mason is Bertha's brother, and look what she still did to him!"

I recalled the terrifying night by Mason's bedside, the horrific wounds that I tended while the demon confined next door threatened to break out time and again.

"But I must explain…" he said wearily, "I must tell you about Bertha, the entire circumstances of our marriage. Then you will understand.

"Bertha's father was a rich merchant and a friend of my father's. He had endowed his daughter with a fortune, and my father, a greedy and avaricious man, was determined to gain her fortune for his younger son so that his elder son could to inherit this _great_ estate in tact.

"As soon as I left Oxford I was sent to the West Indies. I was a mere pup, heady with the prospect of adventure – and what an adventure I got! When I was introduced to Bertha – dark, alluring, and beautiful Bertha – I thought that my Christmases had all come at once. I was flattered by her attentions and she seemed more than pleased with me. Before I knew it I was at the altar. I was the happiest man in the world at that moment! But alas, that happiness was not destined to last."

He looked at me savagely, his self-loathing so plain that it hurt me to see it.

"It was only half a day before I found out what depravities she could sink to, and within a few weeks it became clear that she was violent, unchaste, unhinged. I found out later that her mother had been incarcerated in a mental asylum for years, and that unbeknownst to me, she had a younger brother of the same condition. These things would be nothing if we truly loved each other, but any speck of love I felt for her died when I unearthed the web of deceit I had been entrapped in by her family, and yes, by my own.

"It was the greatest of ironies that both my father and brother died soon after. I was rich beyond measure, yet I was not free. _She_ was still my wife, though I tried for four years – four long years, Jane – to build a life with her. But one cannot build a life in a living hell. Then, when I was on the verge of insanity myself, I conceived a plan of escape. 'Bring her back to Thornfield' I thought, 'Let her be well-taken care of and then you will have done your duty. You will be free to pursue happiness in any way you chose.'

"And that was what I did. I brought her back here, found a suitable carer in Grace, and then fled. Except that she haunted me wherever I went. She cursed me so that no lasting happiness ever came to me, for I had not found love, not the strong, deep attachment that I dreamed and craved. Until you crossed my path on that cold, gloomy day. You rose out of the mist to save me."

With trembling hands he touched my cheek, whispering, "What joy it was to find you, Jane. To find a spirited, intelligent, honest woman, free from conceit; who did not judge, who made me laugh – whom I could truly cherish. Every smile, every conversation, every moment with you was like a touch of Heaven. And when I saw that you cared for me, the happiness I felt was akin to soaring on air."

He settled his hand around my neck, drew me close. "You unearthly thing, I have never loved a woman as I love you – like my own flesh! You are my better self, my best earthly companion. What I would give for you to be my wife, to be with you for eternity, but I am forever cursed!"

I forgave him there and then – how could I not when he spoke with such sincere remorse? I loved him more than ever for his honesty, for his passionate love – but I felt little joy, and much anguish. Oh, how could it hurt to be so loved? I felt my tears fall once more – saw that he cried freely with me. I embraced him, felt him tremble in my arms, felt the burden of our impossible love.

"I understand, Mr. Rochester – Edward." I whispered, "I forgive you."

"Oh Jane, you may forgive, but I'm afraid this story does not have a happy ending." he sobbed, "I am defeated. There will be no redemption for me; there will be no lasting love or happiness. I understand that now, and I accept my fate – but I do not want such a fate for my Jane. I want her to live a glorious and happy life – and that could only happen away from me. And so I must let you go."

"To Ireland?"

"Yes, to Ireland."

He was unable to continue, for at that moment a heavy rain began to fall, followed by a thunderous crack of lightning almost overhead.

"We must go back, sir!" I cried.

He took my hand and we ran through the storm, back to the hall. We were both out of breath, soaked to the skin by the time we reached its entrance. Seeing me shiver, he took off my shawl and gently dried my hair with it. In gratefulness, I stroked the damp locks of hair away from his face. But when I did, he seized my hand.

"Jane," he whispered hoarsely, "Stay with me awhile."


	3. Chapter 3

_**= 3 =**_

His eyes begged me to stay, and my heart longed to comply – but my mind was wary of his request.

_Be on your guard, _it advised. _It is dangerous to obey when you are both in this wretched state._

_But time is precious, _my heart argued._ This may be the last time you will be together. Stay!_

My heart won, and I accompanied him to his study. There, we sat together on the chaise longue – his arm around my shoulders, my head on his chest. I could hear the strong beat of his heart as clearly as my own, our heartbeats so closely synchronised that they seemed to beat as one. Together, we listened to the violent storm that battered its might against the casement.

"It is so wild outside." he murmured, "Perhaps even the gods are enraged at our fate?"

I smiled ruefully, listening to the tick of the clock, the crackle of the fire, the sound of his breathing.

_This may be my final moments with him, _I thought. _The final time I shall feel safe and loved._

I mocked my foolish dreams of marriage, of a life by his side. If marriage had been beyond the realms of possibility before, then his wife's existence made it completely impossible now. And yet a fortnight ago I had not thought that he loved me. Cared for me, yes, but loved? But the impossible _had_ happened. This evening's declarations left me in no doubt of his feelings. But what if he had not made his wife's existence known? What then?

As it often happened, our thoughts were again in tune, for he asked, "Jane, if I did not tell you about Bertha, if I had instead asked you to marry me, would you have consented?"

I shook my head despondently. "Please don't ask me that."

"But would you have accepted me?"

I nestled my head on his shoulder.

"With all my heart," I replied fervently, "Because you are my only friend, my only love – my entire world. I love you and will go on loving you until I die."

He drew me tightly to him, and kissed me hard.

I gasped with surprise. I had never kissed a man before, and the feeling his lips aroused was more sensuous than anything I had ever felt – ever imagined. I had never felt so breathless, so weak, so out of control – and yet so alive. I desired him with all my being, and soon my lips melted into his lips; my hands seemed to take hold of his coat at its own volition.

But he pulled away as suddenly as he began, wiping his face with a trembling hand. He gasped for breath and looked at me so repentantly.

"I'm sorry, Jane." he blurted. "I'm so sorry. I should not … Only, I love you so; want to be with you so, that…"

There was such an expression of torment on his face that I could not help pull him back into my arms, comforting him as his body shook with silent sobs. I kissed his temple, rocking him as gently as a mother would her babe. When his shaking ceased, I dug out his handkerchief from his pocket. He gave me a minute smile as I dabbed his eyes with it.

"You are so good to me, Jane." he said, kissing my hand. "I am sorry I could not do better than Connaught. I know it seems like the end of the earth, but it is the home of my friend, Lord Blake. He has a wonderful wife and two small children, I believe. The Blakes are kind-hearted people, a hundred times better than me. I know they will take good care of you, and you shall do well. But first I must leave them in no doubt of your qualifications."

He gently placed me back on the chaise longue and went to his desk. There, he dashed off a substantial letter, but before he sealed it he held it out to me. I took it from him – and was astonished by what I read.

"This is much too kind. I fear that there shall be no meeting these expectations." I said, handing him back the letter.

He sealed it and then returned it to me, replying, "To praise you less would be to devalue all you have done here. You are a talented creature – I am sure you will be equal to whatever you may encounter. And to establish yourself…"

He took out his pocket-book and handed me some notes. I counted it, and to my amazement it amounted to seventy pounds.

"No, this is too much!"

"Take it, Jane!" he commanded. "You will have to travel for some days. Use it as your allowance for the journey and to establish yourself once you have arrived."

Seeing my continued reluctance, he pleaded, "Please Jane – I want to do everything possible to take care of you – I shall not leave you penniless and alone."

I looked up at his dear face, filled with concern for me. How could I ever think that he did not love me? I would never be so well-loved again.

"You are much too good."

"I am far from that." he replied wretchedly, "I have been a callous fool, hurting you with my games and deceit and heaven knows what else. But I am trying to redeem myself, to do my best by you – my heart!"

He kissed me then so thoroughly, so passionately that it felt as if our souls had merged.

"Do you feel how entwined we are?" he murmured into my ear, "We were meant to be together, you and I. I would… If I could find a way for us to marry, I would come for you."

I looked up with alarm. "No Edward! How can we ever live in peace if we are tormented by such false hopes? You must let me go, just as I must let you go. I will not disappear completely. I will always be here," I said, resting my hand on his breast, "Just as you will remain in my heart. Nothing – not distance, nor time, nor hardship – will ever erase that. We must trust that God will take care of us, until we can meet again in Heaven."

He grimaced. "In Heaven? There is little chance that St. Peter will let a sinner like me through."

I smiled, gently caressing his cheek. "When God sees the good that you have done for me, He will not fail to forgive you and accept you. You are a good man, Edward, with a capacity to do great things for many people, so make the best of your abilities. Live in the knowledge that you have done your best for me, and remember that I will do my best to repay you for your love."

"But I do not have your strength!" he exclaimed.

"You do have it!" I said passionately, "And courage and resolution, too. Have faith, Edward."

He took up both my hands in his unsteady ones, and said tremulously, "I shall try, Jane – I shall. But now I'm afraid I must ask you to teach me again… Teach me how to say goodbye."

I shook my head despondently. "I don't know if there are words for a parting such as ours."

"But you _must_ help me."

So I looked at him lovingly, tearfully, lifted his hands to my lips and kissed them, lavishing them with my tears.

"You must say whatever your heart desires." I told him. "My heart says, 'Farewell, my dearest Edward. I will cherish your kindness, your love for me, forever. May God bless you and keep you.'"

In reply, he reverently kissed my tear-stained cheek, and then my quivering lips until I could scarcely draw breath.

"And my heart says… 'Farewell my dearest Jane – my love – my life. Farewell!'"


	4. Chapter 4

_**= 4 =**_

In front of Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle and Sophie, we parted more formally the following day. Edward remained brusque, though Adèle clung to me and sobbed, though Mrs. Fairfax embraced me like she was about to lose her own child. I understood – he would not break in front of them. He only let me a glimpse of his heartbreak when he took my hand in both of his. And with eyes that betrayed his anguish, he said so very softly, "Thank you, Miss Eyre. God bless you."

A final touch as he assisted me into the carriage, a final glance as the carriage rolled away – and he was gone.

Two days later I stood on this gusty deck, the raw Arctic wind cutting through me as I wept – wept for my lost love. I stood there for what seemed like an immeasurable length of time, until a gentle voice asked, "Are you alright, miss?"

I turned to see a girl – no, a lady not much older than I – her face full of genuine concern.

"Have you taken ill?" she enquired.

"A… A little." I managed to reply, ungracefully wiping my face with the back of my hand.

She offered me her handkerchief and I gratefully took it.

"Let us sit for awhile." she said, taking my arm and leading me to a nearby bench.

We sat for a moment in silence, my heart still too full to speak.

"Is this your first time at sea?" she asked.

Her observation jolted me out of my stupor, made me study her more acutely. "How did you guess?"

She smiled gently. "Well, you are a little pale. I remember my first crossing – I couldn't bear to even sit up, but eventually I got used to it. The secret I found is to not eat or drink too much."

"You are quite a traveller then?"

"Oh, only because Lady Martyn travels so much. I am her companion you see, and though we both hail from Buckinghamshire she often goes to Ireland to visit her brother. As for you, miss, you shall soon reach your destination."

"I fear that I have a long way to go – to Connaught."

"But that is where we are going! Do you have family there?"

"No, I am the new governess of Ardfry House."

"Ardfry? Oh, that is a fine place – we were there last year for a party. Some found its surroundings a little wild – the sea surrounds the house on three sides, you see, but I thought it an exhilarating place – a great change from the tame pastures of Buckinghamshire." she laughed.

She then looked at me kindly. "You must be very sad to leave your friends and family in England."

I frowned, thinking again of dearest Thornfield. "Yes, I am sad to leave my friends."

"Well, I am sure it will not take you long to make new ones. I found that making friends is the easiest thing in Ireland since its people are all so friendly. But…" She rose. "Unfortunately I must leave you now. Do you have anyone I can call? You cannot be sitting here by yourself."

"No, I travel alone."

"Alone? All the way to Connaught? Oh that will not do! I shall ask Lady Martyn if you may accompany us."

"That is not necessary." I blurted. "I shall do very well."

"No, no, I insist. Lady Martyn would not want me to leave a young lady such as you to her own devices. There is still a long way to go, and besides, we will be going the exact same way apart from the last ten miles. Please, come with us."

Her offer was generous, and the prospect of companionship for the long and desolate journey ahead seemed like a gift. Perhaps this was a sign that God _was_ taking care of me? I prayed that He would keep me safe for the rest of my days, and that He did the same for my dearest Edward, wherever he was.

With a smile, I replied, "If it does not trouble her ladyship, then I shall accept your kind offer. Thank you, miss?"

"Joyce – Sarah Joyce."

"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Joyce. I am Jane Eyre."


	5. Chapter 5

**And now for Rochester's point of view...**

* * *

**Listless**

_**= 5 =**_

The night was clear, unusual enough for a November evening after weeks of heavy skies. From my opulent suite at the Claredon I looked out on to busy Bond Street. Though night had fallen more than an hour before, there was still plenty of activity as horses and carriages drove by, their lamps like fireflies in the night. On such a night one dreamed of the open countryside, not of grim London, but London was where I was – far away from the gardens, the river, and the fields of Thornfield – far away from any reminders of Jane Eyre.

Determined as I was to await the news of her safe arrival at Ardfry House, I stayed a month after Jane's departure. But though I had little doubt that life without her would be difficult, little did I know how difficult it would be. There was no escaping her at Thornfield, not when a stroll by the riverside brought back memories of our intimate talks, not when Mrs. Fairfax's praises reminded me of how much Jane was loved, not when the howl of the storm prompted the recollection of our final night together – how we had embraced beside the flickering fire, so entwined, so in love.

My memories were all that I had left of her, bittersweet remnants that in an instant could lift me to ecstatic heights only to drown me in its murky depths. But was this not better than living in perpetual guilt, better than incurring Jane's eternal hate when she inevitably found out the truth?

_You know it is, Rochester__! So bear up and be a man for once! Live the life that she asked of you – one lived to the fullest!_

I laughed bitterly, for I had made a poor effort thus far. As the days passed, I grew ever more morose, so much so that it cast a noticeable air of uneasiness among my household. This was particularly evident among my most valued staff – Leah no longer exchanged pleasantries but flew away as soon as she fulfilled her task, George kept a stern silence whenever I ordered another decanter of brandy – even Mrs. Fairfax cast a concerned motherly eye over me whenever she was in my presence. Only Grace improved, perhaps because her charge had miraculously changed overnight from an irrepressible tiger to a meek kitten.

She was the only one grateful for Jane's departure; otherwise the household had assumed a state of bereavement for the bright, little governess, thus when a letter from Jane did arrive, one could almost hear the house itself breathe a sigh of relief. The letter confirmed that Jane was safely installed at her new home, but it brought more than just mere reassurances for me – the letter was also my deliverance from the bounds of Thornfield – and my chance to escape the pain that it wrought.

Three days later I was in London, but despite my haste to reach town, I made no further plans to venture beyond it. I dared not cross the Channel, afraid that once crossed, my chord of communion with Jane would snap once and for all, and my precious memories of her would seep away forever. Hence installing myself at the Claredon, my usual London residence, I assiduously devoted my days to remembering.

The Serpentine was a particularly favoured spot for my contemplations. My mornings were spent watching rabbles of nurses and their charges play by the waterside, and as I watched I would picture how our children would have looked among them – how our bright-eyed little girl would giggle as pigeons pecked breadcrumbs from her hand, how our ruddy boy would run through the grass, his dark curls a flutter. The afternoons were no better, for it was the time when young ladies appeared for their daily stroll, their beaus and chaperones in tow. I imagined my Jane among them, where she would inevitably outshine them all with her warmth, honesty and tenderness, so rare among these superficial blooms.

Such scenes lashed upon my soul, each lash cutting ever deeper into my heart, leaving it gaping, bleeding. The only relief came from the blessed bottle, a vice that I indulged in more and more often. Still, I had yet enough strength to not completely succumb, but as the days passed, I felt myself growing a little more careless, a little more dependent on the comfort it brought – for who in the world cared if I did succumb now that Jane was across the Irish Sea? Who in the world would help me now that I was once again alone?

The nights brought a change of venue for my meditations as I shifted from the park to the club. Travellers Club was a place for those who came from or had lived abroad. Consequently, it was a place where my acquaintances generally congregated, but once again I sought to avoid all company by secreting myself in the library – a place I had come to regard as my own.

However, I was in no hurry to reach the library this evening. Instead, I swirled the glass of brandy in my hand and took a generous gulp, feeling the fiery liquid settle in my belly. Then heading to the dresser, I took out a cravat, fixing it haphazardly in front of the mirror. That task was accomplished, I shrugged on my coat and stepped back, studying the reflection before me.

The man I saw was weary, undeniably middle-aged. Though his unruly hair and muscular body imparted an element of youthfulness, his eyes inevitably gave away his true age. Staring into those great orbs, I saw a man not only tired of life, but frightened of the future ahead – a future bleak and doomed by loneliness.

"Take care, Jane." I had said to her one evening, "Don't look too closely inside of me – you might not find anything within at all beautiful."

Yet Jane, my courageous girl, saw beyond this coarse facade, recognised the wild beauty beneath, and had loved me for it.

"She loved me," I murmured, "Truly loved me."

I had never been so loved – _really_ loved for love's sake – and it crushed me to know that I might never be loved again. My eyes burned as I again recalled our final night together, recalled the glimpse I had of the life we would have led if circumstances were different – a life of immeasurable joy and love – a life with the twin of my soul.

Letting out a gasp, I turned away from the mirror, pacing back and forth until I had quelled my emotions. But no amount of pacing could ease the ache within me – an ache that seemed to have pervaded my entire being.

"Jane," I cried, "How I miss you…"

I finished my brandy in one searing gulp, and after blowing out the lone candle that lit the room, I hurriedly exited my suite. Once outside, I ignored the concierge's attempts to hail me a cab, preferring to take advantage of the clear night and walk to my destination. The sting of the cold air reinvigorated me, as did the exhilaration of dodging carts, carriages and all manner of obstacles that made its way down Bond Street at this evening hour. But the walk was not long, and soon the ivory buildings of Pall Mall, ever elegant even in the dim gaslight, appeared.

The Travellers Club was housed in one of its smaller buildings. I entered hastily and made my way directly to the library. Expecting it to be deserted at this early hour, I was thus surprised to see a familiar figure perusing its shelves.


	6. Chapter 6

_**= 6 =**_

"Eshton."

The man turned around, and upon seeing who it was that called him, immediately put down the volume.

"Rochester! I was told that I would find you here."

We shook hands cordially, exchanging genuine smiles that came from a lifetime of friendship. Unlike my dealings with most of my contemporaries, there was little need for pretense with Arthur Eshton – a fact that I was exceedingly grateful for at this time – thus when we were settled on the armchairs by the fire, I felt at ease for the first time since I left Thornfield.

"You have just arrived?" I asked.

"Yes, just a few hours ago from Brussels in fact, hence Travellers is the most welcome of sights." Arthur replied while lighting a cigar, "But what a surprise it is to see you here, Edward. I thought you would be in Petersburg or some other far-flung place by now, but then you have been full of surprises lately. Residing at Thornfield for six months in a row? That has never been heard of!"

"Cannot a man enjoy the comforts of his own home?" I replied gruffly after lighting my own cigar.

"Of course, but it is unusual for _you_ to do so. You have always had itchy feet – ever since I could remember you were always dreaming of travelling to the ends of the earth."

"Well, they are not so itchy anymore, Arthur."

"I suppose we are not so young, although there are many who think that a man of forty is in his prime. Don't shake your head at me, man. You know what people think of us – of _you_ in particular. Every time you enter some drawing room or other it is _your_ figure that the ladies seem to eye, not those of the young bucks."

I grimaced. "Because the jingle of twenty thousand pounds never fails to attract anyone's attention. You know what I think of those ladies – I find little of interest and much to berate."

"But of course you have no such qualms about toying with them."

I scoffed, "If they are spiteful and haughty, then why should they not get a taste of their own medicine?"

"Because it is the fastest way of making enemies!" he exclaimed, and then bemusedly added, "My, you are in a joyous mood this evening, Edward. I am beginning to be glad that I have not seen you these past months."

"Humph. You are rather too decent to aggravate me in any way, Arthur. I've always believed that you are far too good for me."

He sighed. "So I have often been told, but if I am so good and decent, then why aren't I at home with my wife and children?"

"Because you, I am sorry to say, have no wife and hence no children."

"And why is that, Edward?"

"Well, because you are rather too particular in your choice."

Arthur laughed. "And this coming from the most notorious bachelor of the county!"

"Because I am as particular as you are!"

"Yes, we have both been rather ambitious, have we not? When most men feel themselves fortunate to find a wife, we are not content with anything but a soul mate – a task more difficult that crossing the Sahara!"

"Now it is _you _who surprise me. Do you not think that such strong connections are possible between people? With your knowledge of twins and the human mind, you must have a theory."

"Nothing supernatural, Edward. Twins come from the same embryo; hence they are essentially the same person in separate shells. It is why they behave in the same way; share the same tastes and so forth. And because they have been together since the womb, it is natural that they share an extraordinarily strong bond."

"But surely such a bond is possible in others?" I challenged.

"In two people wholly unconnected? I don't rightly know. What I _have_ observed is that while it is possible for two people to develop a twin-like connection, this state of closeness does not last. Observe most marriages that begin in love, Edward – in ten, five, or even one year, the same pair find themselves so far apart that they have nothing more in common than their name. Where is your bond then?"

I shook my head. "I fear for you, Arthur – and I thought there was no one more cynical than I."

"I am a scientist, Edward – I observe and interpret what I see, and so far I have never met two people who are truly soul mates, just as I have never met a woman who shares my interests and feelings. Oh, she may possibly exist, but having searched for almost half of my forty years, I can safely say that such a woman shall only exist in my dreams."

I studied Arthur intently. He too was weary; he too wanted a home just as much as I. A year ago I was just as cynical, believing that soul mates were a myth, the foolish creation of romantics – but now?

"Have faith, Arthur." said I with conviction. "Soul mates do exist."

"How do you know?" he asked incredulously.

Looking straight at him, I replied, "Because I have found mine."

Arthur studied me intently, so intently that I had to look away.

"So you have, Edward." he finally remarked, "Found and lost, as far as I can tell – which unfortunately is not so very reassuring for me. It is why you have been holed up in here for weeks, isn't it? Why you look as if you've not eaten or slept properly in months?"

I laughed sardonically. "You are astute, Arthur."

Arthur lifted his brow. "One does not have to be a genius to figure it out. Who is she, Edward?"

But as I began to reply, a voice from the doorway cried, "Someone exquisite, I am sure!"

Startled, I looked up to see a pair of twinkling green eyes laughing us – eyes belonging to a man I had not anticipated seeing.

"I thought you would be on the Continent by now, Mr. Rochester." said he.

At which I managed to answer, "And I thought you would be in Ireland, Lord Blake."


	7. Chapter 7

_**= 7 =**_

Lord Joseph Blake strode across the room and greeted Arthur and I with enthusiasm. In contrast to the both of us, he was tall and lean, with fair hair and sharp features. Given his angularity, one might think Blake a cold man, but that could not be further from the truth, as his genuine smile and warm countenance conveyed.

The three of us were friends at Oxford, but though we still got on agreeably, circumstances meant that we were only able to keep in sporadic contact ever since. It was not unusual for a period of one or two years to pass without the three of us ever meeting, but this year had been different. It was only last January that I previously encountered Blake – and it was on that occasion that he solicited my help in finding a governess.

"Yes, I confess that I would ordinarily be back in Ireland by now," Blake explained, "But Elizabeth and I have been visiting her sister in Kent, and are now just heading home. Still, I cannot believe that ten months have gone by, since here we are again at Travellers, as if we had never gone away! Hand us a pairs of slippers and a nightcap, and one would think that we were all in our dotage!"

"Well, you are not wrong as far as Rochester's concerned," said Arthur impishly, "For _he_ has not been abroad at all in all this time."

"Slowing down, eh, Rochester? Or simply wrecking havoc on home soil?" Blake jested.

"You might like to know that I have been more scrupulous than I have been in my entire life." I retorted.

Blake grinned. "Well, let me be the judge of that! But please refrain from telling me anything until we are in the supper room. At this moment I have a great craving for Monsieur Blanc's cuisine, and not even your tales shall get in the way of my tasting his heavenly Canard à L'Orange."

We shuffled to the supper room, already filled with members dining sumptuously on the celebrated chef's creations. Once seated, Arthur and Blake indulged in light-hearted banter while feasting on the superb duck, but I could not attend much of the talk or the meal, astounded as I was by Blake's appearance. Suddenly, my mind sprang into life.

_Did he have any news of Jane__? Would he speak of her at all? _

Mentally, I constructed a thousand ways to obtain news without casting suspicion – but in the end it was my very silence that invariably attracted attention.

"In over your head this time, Rochester?" said Blake after I failed to respond to one of his questions. "Cheer up, man! Things may be bad at present but you always seem to recover, you know."

"Recover?" I said vehemently, "Can one ever recover from losing one's soul? Tell me, if you lost Elizabeth, would you have recovered?"

Blake looked at me sharply. "So it _is_ serious."

"I have not seen Edward like this since he returned from Jamaica, Blake." remarked Arthur, "And we know what he was like after that."

"Yes, disappeared to Petersburg for a year, and then returned as the most heartless man alive." Blake sighed, "I'm sorry, Rochester, but I only speak of the truth – you weren't the most amiable of companions then. I would hate to see you degenerate so again, but if your loss is akin to my losing Elizabeth then I truly feel for you. I would be completely lost without my wife – irretrievably lost."

"Still, you have your children, Blake – and hence in a way you shall never lose her. But what if you had no children? What if circumstances condemned you and Elizabeth to live your lives apart?"

"So it is a married woman that you love." Arthur deduced.

I shook my head. "No, the lady I speak of is unattached."

"Then why did you not ask for her hand if you felt so deeply?"

I sighed. "Because I had no right to."

"No right to? Why on earth not?" demanded Arthur, "It cannot be for want of fortune, and if she rejected you for lack of title then she is indeed not worthy of you."

I looked up to see two concerned pairs of eyes upon me, and then hastily looked away as guilt weighed down upon me.

I had not told these good friends, friends that I had known for more than half my life, the full story of my time in Jamaica. More critically, I had not told them of Bertha. Oh, they had reason to suspect that something ghastly had occurred, especially when I came back unrecognisable – embittered, enraged – but since they had accepted my story of a passionate love affair gone awry, I never had any reason to tell them the whole truth.

Yet they were very close to the truth now, very close to discovering that the friend they thought so well of was nothing more than a liar and a scoundrel. Can they forgive me for concealing the truth for fifteen years? Could such a sin ever be forgiven?

"Edward," said Arthur feelingly, "For your own sanity, you _must_ ease your mind. And for Heaven's sake, get out of London – out of England. How about the two of us spending the winter together in Paris?"

"Paris? God, no!" I recoiled. "Forgive me, Arthur, but all I want right now is peace, and I shall never find that in Paris."

"Then how about coming to Ardfry?" suggested Blake.

I started, not quite believing my ears.

"To Ireland?"

"Yes – it is somewhere not lacking in peace and quiet." he replied smilingly, "In fact, the both of you must come. Arthur has been but once, and I cannot believe that you Rochester have not visited at all after all these years. It is a distance, I know, hence you are welcome to stay for as long as you like."

_No, Rochester! Do not think of going! S__uccumbing to Blake's invitation would mean sabotaging all that you have done for Jane. Keep your promise to her – let her be._

I breathed in deeply, before saying sardonically, "There is a reason why I have not visited Ireland, Blake – it is because I positively detest its cold and inclement climate."

But Blake was not easily put off. "That is no excuse when you have spent most of the year here. England is scarcely the Mediterranean, isn't it?"

"But to trespass on your hospitality for so long would be unreasonable, especially this close to Christmas."

"Well, you are welcome to spend it with us. Elizabeth would be delighted to have your company as it is not often that we have guests from England. It would be wonderful to have the three of us together again, like it was at Oxford. Besides, I would love to show you around my home. There is no finer country in the whole of Ireland for riding, shooting and fishing – pursuits that I know you revel in."

"Well, there shall be no excuses from me." said Arthur cheerfully, "As long as I am able to return to England in the New Year, I am perfectly willing to come, particularly when you have such fine whiskey on offer."

Blake laughed. "Well, there is certainly plenty of that since the distillery is less than ten miles away. I can even acquaint you with the distiller."

Arthur grinned. "Now _that_ I shall look forward to! So what say you, Edward – shall you come?"

It seemed as if the both of them were plotting against me. _But be strong, Rochester. For Jane's sake, do not succumb!_

"I'm sorry, but London is where I need to be at present – I have… I have some important business matters to attend to."

"Well, they must be very important if you spend most of your time here." Blake quipped.

"Please, Edward." pleaded Arthur, "You are wasting away here. A change of scene and some rest and care will do you a world of good."

"You don't understand." I cried, "It is _impossible_ for me to go!"

"Come, come, Rochester," interjected Blake, "You are being completely irrational about this."

"Irrational?" I cried, jumping up from my seat. "What in damnation do you know?"

I threw down my napkin in disgust, and then to the consternation of my friends, marched straight to the door.

"Where are you going?" I heard Arthur shout.

"To hell!"


	8. Chapter 8

_**= 8 =**_

The candle burned low and flickered incessantly, casting shadows across the ceiling. I lay upon my bed, watching the flame brighten and darken, creating transient, uncertain, monstrous shapes – the shape of my life. So exhausted was I that all I yearned for was sleep – but sleep was not forthcoming.

Closing my eyes, I tried to let my mind ride the waves to slumber, but hard as I tried, I could not find a way through the treacherous reef of faces that threatened to capsize me: the anxious faces of my friends as I stormed from supper; Jane's horrified expression when I finally revealed the truth; and most disturbingly, Bertha's manic eyes on my last visit to the North Tower – eyes that chanted, "Do not try to cross me – you know that I shall always win."

And she _had_ won – yet again.

I was sick of it – sick of being trapped by deceit, sick of the travesty I lived, sick of slowly dying inside. Was there anything left for me – anything at all?

The answer came in the form of a knock on the door, and the muffled plea of, "Edward, may I come in?"

_Blast – it was __Arthur! The last person I wanted to see!_

I lay perfectly still, but inevitably the knocks persisted.

"I know you're in there, man!"

"Be gone, Eshton!" I yelled.

"You shall not ruin yourself, Edward – I won't let you! Now please, let me in!"

I sighed. Dear Arthur, did he not know what a lost cause he championed? But I could ill afford to turn him away, knowing that he was the only person in the world who could ease my suffering.

Somehow I mustered the strength to haul myself to the door. I unbolted it, and there stood my friend, alone in the corridor. I admitted him silently before re-fastening the latch.

"Where is Blake?" I sternly asked.

"Gone back to The Connaught, but not before he begged me to tell you that his invitation is still and shall remain open."

"How generous of him," I sneered, "And shall you go with him?"

"Yes, I have no reason to turn him down – but I would still like you to come with us."

"And is this all you came here for?" I snapped impatiently. "If it is, then you are wasting your time!"

But he was not so easily turned away, instead saying gravely, "Edward, whoever she is, she is not worth destroying yourself for."

"What would you know when you have never loved?" I spat, before turning hastily away.

"You do not know that." I heard Arthur reply tremulously, "Though I may not have found my soul mate, it does not mean that I have never loved."

His wounded tone made me look back, and at once I saw the hurt I had inflicted on my friend.

I groaned at my own brutish behaviour. "I am sorry, Arthur – that was untoward. Come, let us sit."

I let him lead the way to the hearth where a pair of armchairs awaited. He seated himself warily in one of them while I flopped down in the other.

"Do not blame her for my current state, Arthur," I wearily implored, "For I'm afraid it was all self-inflicted."

"Self-inflicted? How so?"

I sighed. "It is a long and complicated story – are you sure you can spare the time?"

"All the time in the world."

"Alright then." I granted. "I shall have to begin with Jamaica, for to understand the conundrum that is my life you must first understand all that happened there."

I began with my arrival on the island, and how I was met by my father's business associates, Jonah Mason and his son, Richard. I told him how they had wined and dined me at the finest restaurants and watering-holes in Jamaica, and then how Richard had introduced me to his beautiful sister, Bertha. I described how that dark and sensual creature had obliterated all sense in me, plunging me instantly into delirious love, so that a mere month later I found myself at the altar. The aftermath of the wedding – the discovery of my wife's infidelities, her humiliating behaviour and its effects – I did not care to dwell on, but I could not fail to recall the moment when everything came to a head.

"I thought that the first year of our marriage had been hell, but it was only the beginning. It was not long after our first anniversary when I found out that my wife's erratic behaviour was in actual fact symptoms of insanity – insanity of long standing in her family.

"You can imagine how enraged I was. I burst into Mason's house, and wielding a pistol to his face demanded that he confessed to his deceit. To my surprise he had no qualms in disclosing his long-standing arrangement with my father – an ingenious plan to join the two estates through marriage to provide the Rochesters with a vast fortune and his own family with much desired Old World prestige. The bastard actually laughed as he told me all this – because he knew very well that his daughter's mental state made the entire arrangement foolproof."

"Why? Can you not seek an annulment?"

"Not after she had been declared insane. I had five different solicitors examine my case and they all came to the same conclusion – I was bound to her until death – and Mason knew it. I almost used the pistol on myself in the end – until I realised that there was a way out, and that way lay back at home."

"So you brought her back here, and left her at Grimsby Retreat or some other institution before setting off around the Continent."

"Grimsby?" I scoffed, "I would not even put Pilot in that place."

"Then where…?" Arthur blinked. "Thornfield? No, that is impossible!"

"Entirely possible."

Arthur swallowed visibly. "You are in earnest, aren't you? And is she still there?"

"In the North Tower."

"All that time? But I have visited dozens of times and heard nothing!"

"Are you sure that you heard nothing?"

"Yes, I … No, I may have heard something. At your house-party for instance – oh my Lord – Mason! Was that her brother that we met – and his screams that we heard?"

I smiled grimly. "Correct on both counts. My venerable wife stabbed and bit her own brother when he tried to approach her. So now you know why I don't host parties often."

"Good God!" he exclaimed in horror, and then more gently, "Edward, I am sorry. If I had known-"

"But I made certain that no one knew! I could not stand to be so shamed again, hence only the carer and the doctor know of their patient's true identity. But even they do not know the whole story. You, Arthur, are only the second person that I have told whole sad history to."

"The first being?"

"The first being… Miss Eyre."

I turned away to study the fire, not wanting to see my friend's pity, or worse, revolt. But when I allowed myself to look back, to my astonishment I saw neither.

"So you do care for her." Arthur merely said.

Alarmed, I gasped, "You know?"

"I _suspected_, particularly when I noticed that your mood-swings coincided with Miss Eyre's departure and return. I have had a little conversation with her, and she seems a very bright, very lovely girl, Edward – but she is a girl, and not in your league."

"Is age or station of consequence when it comes to love? Here was an intelligent girl, unspoilt, and completely without artifice. Here was a young girl who in some ways had suffered more than I, for her upbringing had been harsh in the extreme, and yet she possessed the warmest and most generous of hearts."

"She sounds like a remarkable creature."

"She is." I replied wistfully, "A brave, little thing who was not frightened by anything I did or said. In fact, I found out very quickly that in her presence I felt so completely at ease that I was able to tell her anything, while she listened without judgment, and replied with thought. Much of the time I did not even need to speak since she could divine my thoughts with a single look. I was piqued, then bewitched, and soon I could not deny my love for her. And the more I loved her, the more I wanted her to love me. I wanted her to feel the same passion, the same desire, but discrete, sensible creature that she is, she would have none of it. So I took to what you might call – unorthodox methods – to make her love me."

"And did this method involve Miss Blanche Ingram?"

"It did."

Arthur shook his head. "That was completely unprincipled! How could you do such a thing to an innocent?"

"Because I wanted her more than anything in the world!"

When Arthur gave me a look laden with disdain, I quickly added, "You mistake my intentions. What I feel goes far beyond desire and lust – it is the deepest, ardent, most genuine feeling that I have ever felt. She is as much a part of me as I am a part of her. Her essence purifies me, infuses me with hope. I thought her my saviour, one Heaven sent to save me from myself and my damned life – my only hope of happiness. I wanted to share my life with her – and yes, I wanted her to be my wife."

"Oh, Edward…" Arthur sighed.

"I wanted her at any cost – I was prepared to commit bigamy to do so – but when she finally declared her love, I found that I could not go through with it. I looked at her tearful face, filled with an agonised love that completely mirrored mine, and realised how much hurt I had already inflicted. How much more hurt would I inflict if I continued on with my farcical plan? I realised then that if I truly loved her, I had to let her go."

"So you sent her to Blake."

"Yes, but for Jane's sake, I have not told Blake about any of this."

"Of course." Arthur said before pausing in thoughtfulness. "Unfortunately, if you cannot explain your situation to Blake then you have no choice but to accept his invitation. He is keen to help you as much as I am, hence why he has been so persistent about you coming. Can you turn down a good friend's help, especially one you have known for so long?"

"No, I cannot – but being in the same house as Jane Eyre would not cure my broken heart – in fact, it would be pure torture for us both!"

"But you cannot avoid Miss Eyre forever, not when there is a great likelihood of your paths crossing in the future. See this as a step to mending that broken heart of yours. Besides, you both seem to know where you stand with each other, and since she seems not the type to do anything untoward, where is the danger? You might not even be each other's company very often if she is with the children. Two or so weeks shan't do any harm, and at the end of it I shall be on-hand to accompany you back to England. Does that sound like a plan?"

Breathing in deeply, I conjured up Jane in my mind once more – fair, pure and lovely.

_What shall I do, my darling? Please tell me!_

_Come to me, Edward, come!_

_How can I, my love?_

_You can and you shall!_

Jane had spoken, and as always I could not deny her. So swallowing the lump of apprehension in my throat, I replied to my friend, "Alright Arthur, you win – I shall come."

* * *

**Well, that's all from Edward for now. Next time you'll hear what Jane's been doing.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Time to see how Jane is getting on.**

* * *

**Soul Friends**

_**= 9 =**_

The children were restless the whole morning, finding a multitude of reasons to stop and fret.

"These sums are _so_ difficult, Miss Eyre." moaned Lizzy, my precocious nine year old charge. "Please, can we play outside instead?"

"Oh, yes, Miss, can we?" echoed her spirited younger brother, Erroll. "We cannot miss seeing Mamma and Papa arrive home with the beautiful ladies."

"How do you know the guests will be ladies, Erroll?" I asked amusedly, "It could well be a lady and a gentleman."

"It cannot be a lady and a gentleman because Mrs. Kirwan said she's to prepare _two_ rooms." replied the astute boy.

"I'd rather it be ladies since I do so wish to see their pretty gowns!" chimed his sister.

I smiled inwardly. The master and mistress's homecoming had been the children's focus all this week, ever since Lord Blake's letter arrived informing Ardfry of their imminent return – along with two unnamed guests. Since then the household had been in a whirl of frenzied preparation, sending the children into ecstatic expectation.

"So can we finish early, Miss Eyre?"

Their eager blue eyes gazed at me so excitedly that I struggled not to laugh. "Finish your arithmetic and we shall see about going outside to sketch."

"By the pond?" asked Lizzy hopefully.

"If you complete _all _your sums in silence."

That was motivation enough for the both them since they both loved to draw. They also knew full well that the pond afforded a good view of the drive, and hence of any incoming carriages.

As my pupils scribbled their answers upon their slates, I went to the window to look out upon the bare November garden, the green patchwork fields beyond, and the grey sky mirrored in the blue-grey sea. The sea. Three months ago I had never even glimpsed the sea, and now I was surrounded by it. The waters of Galway Bay encompassed Ardfry on three sides, making it feel as if the house was perpetually afloat.

_So __different from the refined, pastoral scenes at Thornfield – so wild._

The west coast of Ireland was more rugged than I ever imagined, much wilder than even the moors of Lowood. Here, one had no protection from the untamed squalls that blew in from the Atlantic, and all life seemed geared towards self-preservation. Plants were small and hardy, and the cottages squat and stout, as stout as the people who lived in them.

_A world away from Thornfield__._ _A world away from…_

A flood of sorrow flowed through me as I thought of Mr. Rochester, of his mournful eyes as he bid me farewell. Where was he now? Far away from here, I was certain. Did he move on as I bid him to? Did he try to rebuild his life? Shall I ever know?

"Miss Eyre, we have finished!" I heard Erroll cry.

I turned around and saw that both the children had laid down their chalks. Their eagerness made me yearn for the simplicity of childhood and its lack of complications, but I knew that one cannot relive the past, just as one cannot predict the future.

_Live in the present, Jane Eyre. Think of nothing more than the here and now._

_But it is so hard!_

_Have faith, child._

I returned to the children and cast a quick eye over their work. With a grin I said, "Good work, the both of you. Now if you are quick to put on your warm things, we may go out to sketch before luncheon."

They raced away after I had instructed them to meet me at the front door, leaving me free to return to my chamber down the corridor. My room here was smaller than my chamber at Thornfield, but what it lacked in dimension it made up for in its cheerfulness. Facing the south, it received the full face of the sun and afforded comforting views of the fields, hills, and mysterious grey mountains of the Burren.

As I put on my merino cloak, bonnet and gloves, I saw that the mountains were hidden under a covering of cloud – a sign that rain may be on its way. Knowing that time was precious, I retrieved my box of drawing materials and a blanket before making my way downstairs to the entrance hall. It was quiet there, most of the activity being in the kitchens where preparations for luncheon were taking place. I stood examining a portrait of a handsome officer, but I was not alone for long.

Mrs. Kirwan suddenly appeared from an adjoining room. Like Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper of Ardfry was middle-aged and widowed, but that was where the resemblance ended. Mrs. Kirwan was a formidable character – tall, stern, careful, and efficient. She was well-known for demanding high standards from those under her tutelage, particularly newcomers who had arrived unexpectedly.

"A girl sent all that way – alone?" I had once overheard her say, "She is either brilliant or trouble."

Since then, she had kept a close eye on me, more so since Lord and Lady Blake departed for England. Now she took in my cloak, drawing box and blanket, and asked sternly, "Where are you going, Miss Eyre?"

"Taking the children to the pond for their art lessons." I replied as calmly as I could.

"When it's threatening rain?" she said disapprovingly.

"I shall not keep them out too long."

"Humph. For your sake, I hope that they do not catch a cold, not with the master and mistress almost home."

"I shall make certain that they are appropriately dressed, ma'am."

"I hope so. Be certain to bring them in for luncheon at half past twelve – sharp, you understand."

"Yes, Mrs. Kirwan."

The arrival of the children thankfully saved me from further reprimand. Instead, Mrs. Kirwan gave the children an almost cheerful smile, adjusting Erroll's coat and Lizzy's bonnet, before sending us all on our way.

The air outside was crisp, but the children, excited to be out-of-doors after a rainy week, chattered and skipped happily along the path. We swiftly passed the carefully clipped hedges and bare flower beds of the ornamental garden, and soon arrived at the pond. There, I set out the blanket, took out the paper and pencils, and bid the children to sketch the pond in front of them.

As they set about this task, I added, "Now children, use your imagination. Imagine that the pond is in somewhere magical, like a jungle or a distant valley, and imagine that your favourite animal lives in it."

"Like a hippopotamus?" asked Erroll.

"Yes. Imagine it swimming among the reeds."

"Or a flamingo? They're so lovely and pink."

"Yes, Lizzy. Can you see it perched upon its long legs? I want you to draw these animals in your pond."

As they continued drawing, I too began to sketch the pond. Working quickly, I drew the shoreline with its tall reeds, and then the hills beyond. But there were no hippopotamuses or flamingos to be seen in my drawing, but a lone horse and rider galloping away upon a distant road, followed closely behind by a great, shaggy dog.

"Are they on a hunt, Miss Eyre?" asked Erroll from over my shoulder.

I blushed, and quickly regaining composure, replied, "No, they are on a long journey."

"Where to?"

"I do not know," I said sadly, "And I do not think the rider knows either."

"They are on an adventure!" Erroll concluded joyfully. "I would love to go on an adventure!"

I gave a wistful smile as he told me of his future plans to explore the deepest, darkest Africa. His thirst for travel inevitably reminded me of Mr. Rochester. Was he like this boy as a child, full of dreams and vitality? To my chagrin, I felt a tear well and fall as I thought of how his dreams had been quashed by the cruel heel of life. Would his dreams ever be fulfilled? Would mine?

"Miss Eyre! Miss Eyre!" I heard the children cry. "Are you unwell?"

"No, I am fine." I managed to reply, hastily wiping the tear away with the back of my hand.

Lizzy came up beside me and took my hand. "Don't worry, Miss Eyre. We won't go on any adventures before we are grown up. And you can come with us!"

I drew them both near and kissed each their foreheads. "Thank you. I am honoured to be invited."

We continued outside for another half an hour until a misty rain began to fall. As we rushed back to the house, we heard a clatter of wheels over gravel, and through the rain I saw four figures alight from the carriage.


	10. Chapter 10

_**= 10 =**_

"It's Mamma and Papa!" cried Erroll, who sprinted off before I could restrain him. Fortunately, his sister was more temperate, though no less eager.

"May I go too, Miss Eyre? _Please?_"

I shook my head. "In this rain you won't, but I am sure you shall see them soon."

As I hastened her inside, I caught a glimpse of Erroll being embraced by his mother while Lord Blake bid the guests – two gentlemen – inside. One of the gentlemen looked back in our direction, but since he was some fifty yards away I had no way of identifying him – yet his cloaked form looked strangely familiar.

We went directly to the nursery where a good fire had been lit. I helped Lizzy out of her damp clothes and into her day dress while she bemoaned the lack of lady guests. It was not long before an excited Erroll burst into the room, followed by the children's nurse, Máire.

"Papa has presents for us _all_!" he announced as Máire attempted to relieve him of his coat.

"All?" asked Lizzy, "Even for Miss Eyre?"

"Oh yes!" said he confidently, "Even for Miss Eyre. And Mr. Eshton said he'd tell-"

"Mr. Eshton?" I gasped. "Is he one of the guests?"

Erroll nodded. "He was very nice and funny. But his friend was not so nice."

"And who is Mr. Eshton's friend?"

"I don't know. He did not speak but he looked frightfully scary."

_Could it be? No, it could not!_

My hands trembled alarmingly as I did up the buttons of Lizzy's dress. When this was achieved, I slipped quietly away, pacing down to the end of the gallery where two large windows overlooked the bay. I gazed out at the all-enveloping mist, my heart beating fast with trepidation.

_Could it be him? How could he come when w__e promised to let each other be?_

I felt my anxiety sharply rise – but was it unfounded? Mr. Eshton surely had many other friends. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I felt that it cannot be anyone else but Mr. Rochester.

Turning around, I headed for the servant's hall – someone there would surely know who the guests were. But as I reached the main staircase, I was arrested by the sound of my master's voice.

"Now, I shall show you to your rooms." I heard him say cheerfully to his guests as they ascended the stairs, "Settle in and then we shall have a good luncheon. I have planned little for the next day or so since we have spent more than a week on – oh, Miss Eyre! How do you do?"

For a moment I was mum, only managing a slight bow and a stoic, "Fine, sir."

"These two gentlemen need no introduction, I am sure."

"No, indeed. How do you do, Mr. Eshton?" I greeted, and more tremulously, "Mr. Rochester."

"You look well, Miss Eyre." the latter said sternly.

I met by Mr. Rochester's gaze, held his eye for an agonising moment. His face was a little more haggard, his hair a little more unruly than I remembered it last. How I wanted to step forward and kiss his weariness away – but instead I merely replied, "Thank you, sir."

"I am glad that the Irish air agrees with you." he remarked with an ironic smile.

"And I'm forever thankful that you sent Miss Eyre our way, Rochester." said Lord Blake, "She has turned out to be quite a treasure, you know."

Turning to me, my master said smilingly, "Miss Eyre, you may bring the children down after dinner. I know they are looking forward to their presents."

"They are, sir – though I think they are simply excited to have you home."

Lord Blake laughed heartily. "I am very glad to hear it! Very well, Miss Eyre – see you after dinner."

I saw no more of the guests that afternoon, but I could think of little else. I thought of Mr. Rochester being under this very roof – a circumstance that had the potential to drive us both to madness. How could I act as if he was nothing to me when my heart yearned to be with him – to talk with him, to laugh with him – to love him? How could I see him suffering and not offer my help? An impossible situation!

Yet whatever his reason for coming here, and whatever my anxieties, there was nothing I could do but make the best out of it. Somehow, God had seen it fit to grant me the chance to be with my dear Edward once more. If this was His will, then surely this visit was not wholly bad?

The afternoon was first spent preparing tomorrow's lessons, and then helping Máire with the children. Máire was a girl of some seventeen years who came from Oranmore, the nearest village. Yet despite her tender age, she had been part of the household since she was fourteen when she entered as a maid. Coming from a large family, she was not only adept in caring for children, but also in storytelling. She often told me comical tales of her family that made me laugh heartily. Her stories proved to be timely entertainment on this wet afternoon and amused the children until the dinner bell rang.

As we helped the children dress for their after-dinner appearance, Máire asked me, "Aren't you going to change, too, Miss Eyre?"

I glanced at my usual plain dress and sighed. "You are right – I shall do it now."

Ten minutes later, I returned to the nursery in my cornflower blue dress – a dress I had bought a mere week before my departure from Thornfield, and hence had never worn.

Máire eyed it approvingly. "Very pretty, Miss Eyre. I didn't know you possessed such a lovely dress. You should wear it more often – it becomes you."

I smiled. "If the occasion is suitable, then perhaps I shall."

Hand-in-hand, I led the children downstairs to the drawing room, where Mrs. Kirwan was supervising the serving of coffee. She gave me a piercing glance, before announcing, "Here are the children – and Miss Eyre."

Erroll went straight to his mother, who was sitting on the settee with Mr. Eshton, while plucky Lizzy approached her father, who was speaking to the 'frightful' Mr. Rochester by the fire.

And me? I did neither, lingering by the door until Mrs. Kirwan said impatiently, "Don't just stand there, Miss Eyre. Give this to Mr. Rochester, please."

She handed me a cup, which I barely managed to keep from spilling as I crossed the room. Mr. Rochester saw me approach and immediately stepped forward. His eyes seemed to soften as he took the cup from my hands.

"Is this for me?" he asked softly.

"Yes, sir."

And then softer still, "Thank you, Ja – Miss Eyre."

I was about to return but Lord Blake bid me to stay. "I was just telling your former employer what a splendid job you are doing here with the children. I know that they can be a handful – yes Lizzy, that is sometimes so, you know – but they have improved remarkably since you have arrived. For example, Lizzy here was just giving us a lecture on the butterflies of the East Indies!"

"Yes, the crimson rose swallowtail is my favourite, is it not, Miss Eyre?" asked Lizzy.

I could not help but smile. "Is that your favourite now?"

"Of course, because the red spots on its wings are so pretty!"

"Tell me, where did you obtain such an extensive knowledge of natural history?" her father asked, "Surely they cannot have taught you such things at school."

I glanced quickly at Mr. Rochester, who was watching me so intently that I could scarcely reply.

"I – I had access to an excellent library at Thornfield – and an excellent teacher in Mr. Rochester."

"Ah, mystery solved since I know very well of Rochester's interest in bugs and beetles! So your former-pupil must be quite the entomologist by now."

Again I glanced at Mr. Rochester, whose sudden grimace made me smile. "I am afraid that Adèle's interest was more towards fashion than biology. Mr. Rochester, may I ask you how she is?"

For an instant he looked rather abashed, answering awkwardly, "She is at school – in York."

"And is she well?"

"Mrs. Fairfax writes that she has more or less settled."

"Then may I be allowed to write to her? I would so like for us to remain in touch."

"Yes, of course – I shall give you her address later."

The presents were fetched and distributed soon after – an infantry of soldiers for Erroll and a doll's tea set for Lizzy. And Erroll was right; there was indeed a present for me – a new globe for the school room.

The children returned to the nursery soon afterwards. Elated with their gifts, it took them some time to prepare for bed. Since the children had been treated to Máire's stories that day, it was now my turn to read to them, but excited as they were, I had to read for almost an hour before they fell asleep.

Exhausted with the trials of the day, I made for my own chamber, and was just exiting the children's room when I heard a well-loved voice say, "Good night, Jane."

Startled, I spun around.

Mr. Rochester stood holding a candle at his chamber door, half-way down the hall. Even in the dim light I could see his great eyes glisten, expressing a mountain of words that dared not be said.

"Good night, Mr. Rochester." I replied tremulously, holding his impassioned gaze. "Sleep well."

He chuckled softly. "I doubt I shall do so, but I shall certainly try."

When he said no more, I continued back to my chamber, though only when I reached it did I hear his door slam shut.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts folks. Lots more action in story, and I know you're going to love Mrs Kirwan!**

* * *

_**= 11 =**_

I awoke the next morning to a beautiful dawn. A golden sky streaked with mauve clouds signalled the start of a wonderful morning, and knowing how rare such mornings were in November, I was eager to make use of it.

As soon as I was dressed, I ventured out into the still garden, whose frosty hedges and serene fields reminded me of my first morning at Thornfield. I had also risen early that day, eager to explore my new surroundings. I remember my delight in discovering its quaint terraces, so wondrous after the bleakness of Lowood.

How long ago that day seemed now. Back then I had been a novice of the world, knowing little of life, of love, of the man that in time became my all.

I glanced up at the second storey window I knew to be Mr. Rochester's. He was no doubt fast asleep, but even so, my heart yearned to be where he was. But no sooner than I thought these thoughts, I heard my conscience scream,

_Don't be such a milksop, Jane Eyre! __Stop these daydreams at once! _

Ashamed at my lack of self-control, I fled over the nearest stile and across the field. Eventually the field gave way to a beach that I often went to for solitude. My boots crunched the pebbly surface as I made for my usual seat, a battered log washed up many moons ago. Sitting down, I wrapped my cloak about me and took a deep breath, letting the cold, salty air fill my lungs. I closed my eyes and listened to the waves lap upon the shore. As I let its calm rhythm soothe my aching soul, I recited,

_Lord, __be with us. Give us the strength to do your will._

I repeated this simple, heartfelt prayer over and over until I gained the fortitude to face the day. Then opening my eyes, I took one final drink of the glorious view before turning back.

On my way across the field, I encountered Mr. Eshton, who greeted me in his usual friendly manner. "Ah, I see that you are also an early riser, Miss Eyre." he said cheerfully. "Is it not a delightful morning? One knows it is a clear day when one can see the Aran Isles."

I looked to where he pointed and immediately saw the fabled islands, plainly visible on the horizon. Upon discovering that I was heading back to the house, he asked to accompany me.

"Are you sure you would not like to continue your walk? It is such a lovely morning."

"No, I am happy enough with my brisk round. Besides, I still have many a morning to enjoy a walk."

"But perhaps not as lovely as this one. Such a day makes me glad to be in Galway."

"I am pleased to hear that." he replied genially, "I admit that I thought Rochester foolhardy to send a young girl like yourself out all this way, but if you have found a good home here then I freely admit my mistake."

Home? Could Ardfry ever be my home? "I am – content enough here at present." I answered carefully.

"Only content? But of course – you are undoubtedly still missing Thornfield."

Blushing, I asked, "Do you think me foolish to miss a place that was my home for less than a year?"

"Not at all, not when it holds fond memories for you."

I sighed inwardly, thinking of my former home. "I do miss Thornfield. I was well-treated and happy there, and since it was the first place where I felt completely at home, I cannot help but cherish it."

Mr. Eshton paused, studying me pensively. "And before you knew it, you were uprooted."

"Change is always inevitable, Mr. Eshton – I am reconciled to that – it was only that this change came a little sooner than I expected. But such is life, and I can only live in the present. Ardfry is my present – for now."

"Now? So you shall not stay?"

"Oh, I have no thoughts of leaving at present, but the children shall not always need a governess, and when that time comes I shall return to England – or perhaps even venture beyond to Madeira – I have an uncle there that I hope to visit."

"Well, I hope that you may one day do so, and visit many places beyond. Travelling indeed enriches the mind, though I think you are already a very accomplished traveller, since in reaching Galway, you have now reached the edge of the earth!"

I laughed. "I can understand why people might think of Galway as being so! On days like today it is a lovely place, but in the middle of a storm it is like being at the gates of hell."

"Then I pray that Mother Nature is kind to us while we are here. Well Miss Eyre, it has been lovely conversing with you – I hope we might have the opportunity to repeat the pleasure. Shall I see you at church later?"

I did see Mr. Eshton later that morning, when we joined the family at their church just beyond the estate's gates. Afterwards, I returned to the house with the children and led them through a scripture lesson before Lady Blake took over.

My mistress was a woman of some thirty years, and like her husband was tall, willowy and handsome. But unlike him, she was quieter in disposition, though no less friendly. I liked her gentle manners, and she had from the first always treated me with respect and kindness.

She was a talented lady, spending many an hour knitting elaborate purses, but her greatest talent was in music. She was accomplished on both the piano and the Spanish guitar; hence while I still supervised most of the children's music lessons, they received her more in-depth tuition every Sunday she was at home.

Today, I listened for the final few minutes of their lesson, when Erroll and his mother played a simple duet. Erroll played with such vigour and correctness that he truly earned the rapturous applause of his sister, governess and mother.

"Well done, my dear." Lady Blake congratulated, "I must say that you have much improved in my absence. In fact, the both of you played so delightfully that you might just have to play at our party next week."

"Party? Next week?" Erroll exclaimed.

"So we shall see some beautiful ladies after all!" cried Lizzy.

"Undoubtedly, but you must be on your best behaviour between now and next Saturday. You must do everything that Miss Eyre tells you, or I might just change my mind."

The children were of course overjoyed by the news and were in ecstasy all day, thus when they joined their parents after dinner that night they plied them with eager questions.

"Who is coming, Papa?" asked Lizzy.

"Well, I have invited Lord Martyn and his sister Lady Martyn," replied their father, "The latter who you of course know, Miss Eyre – as well as Baron Trench and his family, and of course the Miss Lynches."

"And what shall I wear?"

Her father laughed. "On matters of dress – well, I am sure you are in good hands."

"Máire and I will make sure that you look your best, Lizzy." I interjected with a smile, that fell when I saw Mr. Rochester side up to me a moment later.

"What shall _you_ wear, Miss Eyre?" he whispered. Having him in such close proximity was greatly unsettling, particularly since I had not seen him all day.

I saw immediately that he was in a sardonic mood, hence I stoically replied, "Whatever is appropriate for the occasion, sir."

He chuckled quietly. "Did you know that at one time I dreamed of buying you a wardrobe full of splendid dresses?"

"Whatever for?" I challenged, "A governess has no need for such luxuries – as you very well know, Mr. Rochester."

He sighed. "Don't I know it, Miss Eyre." said he, and then added hastily, "Come and see me in the library later – I have Adèle's address to give you."

Some minutes later, Mr. Rochester excused himself, while I remained for another half-an-hour, talking with the master and Mr. Eshton until it was time for the children to go to bed. I accompanied them back to the nursery, but after handing them over to Máire, I headed back downstairs.

The corridor seemed empty at first, but just as I was about to enter the library, I heard a stern voice say, "Mr. Rochester is within at present, Miss Eyre – and I doubt that he would like to be disturbed."

"I am only fetching a book to read, Mrs. Kirwan. I shall be brief."

"Be sure that you are, Miss Eyre. I do not want any complaints from the guests, particularly about those under my charge."

"But of course, Mrs. Kirwan."

Unhappily, she did not go, but watched me keenly as I pushed open the door and slipped inside.


	12. Chapter 12

_**= 12 =**_

The library was dark, with only the fire on the far side of the room to light it. After a moment I distinguished Mr. Rochester's arm, cigar in-hand, protruding from behind the great armchair by the hearth.

"This must be Jane Eyre." I heard him say, "I know that feather-light tread anywhere. Come, Jane – sit."

I did as I was bid, but added apprehensively, "I must not stay long, sir. Mrs. Kirwan is just outside."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Quite unlike the venerable Fairfax, is she?"

"Quite, sir."

He sighed and drew deeply on his cigar. "Don't worry, Jane, I won't keep you – as much as I would like to."

After putting out the remaining stub, Mr. Rochester got up and went to the writing desk. He hastily scribbled a few lines before returning to the fireside.

"There." he said, holding out the note, "Write as often as you wish. I am sure Adèle would greatly appreciate it. She had a great affection for you, you know."

"I know, sir." I replied, taking the note. "Thank you."

But as I was about to rise, he asked, "How are you, Jane? How are you _really_?"

I gazed up at Mr. Rochester – saw his lips tremble – felt his eyes pierce my soul.

"Sir…"

He scoffed, "That's right. I have no right to ask even that of you, have I – now that I am no longer your master – and not even your friend."

"You shall always be my friend, Mr. Rochester."

"But how can we be friends when we cannot even talk to one another?" He shook his head. "Forgive me, I know that I should not be at Ardfry but unfortunately I had little choice in the matter. Eshton and Blake, in their infinite wisdom, thought it beneficial for me to come, particularly after I had moped about London for weeks, but what benefits they had in mind, I do not know – unless one calls torture beneficial."

He cursed, and without warning, knelt down and took my hand. Our eyes locked, and for a moment it was as if we had never left his study at Thornfield, never left each other's arms. The entire world dissolved at the sight of the love I saw in his eyes, the same consuming love that I still felt for him.

We remained perfectly still, soaking up the sight and feel of my small hand in his.

"I miss you!" he gasped, "Was – was it meant to be this hard?"

"I don't know," I replied, my eyes brimming with unshed tears, "I thought that I could endure it, being without you, but the further I travelled from Thornfield, the less sure I became – because being wrenched from you was like being severed in two! You were right when you said that we would bleed inwardly, except when will the bleeding stop?"

"I have no idea, Jane," he replied despairingly, "But I know there shall be no healing while I remain at Ardfry. Don't worry, I shall be gone in less than a fortnight, and yet…"

He paused, gazing at me with so much tenderness that I struggled to remain composed, and when he hastily lifted my hand and kissed it, I was completely undone.

"Edward…" I cried.

"You are still so lovely, my little firebird." he whispered, "Oh Jane, how can I walk away from you again? How can I-"

A knock on the door. "Rochester?"

"Eshton!" he moaned, "Goddamn it, that man can certainly choose his moment!"

Mr. Rochester reluctantly released my hand and strode to the door. I hastened to the bookshelves and pulled out a random volume.

"Yes, Eshton?"

"Edward, would you like-" Mr. Eshton halted when he spotted me. "Oh, I'm sorry, I did not mean to inter-"

"What do you want, Eshton?"

"Well – Well, if you fancy a game of billiards, Blake and I are about to begin."

Mr. Rochester glanced at me and then back at his friend. "All right," he sighed, "I shall join you." And then turning back to me, he said quietly, "Good night, Miss Eyre."

"Yes, I hope you sleep well, Miss Eyre." added Mr. Eshton.

"Thank you – and good night to you both."

But there was little sleep for me that night. I lay awake until the small hours reliving those moments in the library, rejoicing at the proof of our love, but frightened by the uncontrollable passion that it reignited, that had once again almost overcame sense. Yet, how could it be right to repress such feelings when the very act of repression was starving our souls of its most essential nourishment?

I had no further opportunities to talk to Mr. Rochester that week, for though I continued to accompany the children to the drawing room after dinner, his presence there was more sporadic. Even when he was present, he largely kept out of my way, thus I took to conversing more with Mr. Eshton, whose knowledge of science and amusing anecdotes were entertaining as well as enlightening. But as amiable as he was, nothing took my mind away from my old master, who I really began to be anxious about.

By the time Friday arrived – the day before the party – I had hardly seen Mr. Rochester for days, for he had either been out with the other gentlemen or had disappeared on his own, either on one of Lord Blake's great steeds or on foot. Once or twice I caught a glimpse of him from the schoolroom window slowly walking across the fields, his purposeful stride nowhere to be seen. How I longed to go to him, but after our time in the library, I knew that every moment with him was fraught with danger.

_Yet how can you call yourself his friend __if you cannot be with him – if you do not even trust him?_

Then I remembered what Miss Joyce had told me on the road to Galway, after I told her that my distress came from having been parted from the best friend I ever had.

She said, "On my first visit to Ireland, I met my grandmother – my _mamó_ – for the first time. You see, my father was raised in Oranmore, the nearest village to Ardfry, in fact, but had gone to England with the late Lord Martyn. My _mamó_ was a wise, old woman, and she told me that one can have three kinds of friends:

"The first kind of friend is one who is more of an acquaintance – someone who you may say hello to in the streets, engage in talk about the weather, the children and the like, but whom in the end may walk away from you in times of difficulty.

"The second kind of friend is one with whom you have much in common, with whom you get along easily and have much affection for. You can trust this friend to stick by you during hard times, but it is likely that you shall not always keep in touch if you are separated.

"Then there is the third kind of friend, your _anam cara (__1) _– your soul friend. She said this is the deepest friendship of all, one that can defy all convention, because this is the person that God has joined to you. This friend is someone with whom you can reveal your heart – more than that, someone with whom you share the same soul. Because of this, distance and time disappears, and even when you are parted, you shall always remain attuned to each other's lives."

I cried as I recalled Miss Joyce's words, for this was exactly the connection I felt with Mr. Rochester. He was truly my _anam cara,_ and because of this I realised that the worst thing we could do was to let each other be. Our lives – our souls – are forever entwined whether we liked it or not, hence was it not better to make the most of the time we had left – before it was too late?

When I saw him in the fields from my chamber window, I grabbed my shawl and bonnet and rushed downstairs. He was just traversing the stile that led to the orchard when I caught up with him. The weather being changeable, he wore his great, black coat and broad-brimmed hat, reminding me of the very first time I saw him last winter, glowering and cursing. He was not cursing now, but I saw that same glower upon his face. Being preoccupied, he almost passed me by until I called out his name.

Mr. Rochester stopped directly, and turned warily around. "Jane." he said coolly.

I walked up and greeted him, smiling gently. He returned a cold smile, one that did not reach his eyes – one that made me nervous and tongue-tied.

Eventually, he said, "Are you returning to the house?"

I nodded.

"Then let us go together."

We walked in tense silence – he not knowing what to say, and I trying to find the courage to say what was on my mind.

"Sir," I said abruptly, stopping us both, "I meant what I said the other night about being your friend."

I saw his eyes soften. "Truly?"

"Yes!" I replied passionately. "I know that you sent me to Ardfry to protect me – to protect my reputation, and to protect me from yourself. I also know that we agreed to close this chapter of our lives and move on, but if these months of separation have proven anything, it is that our love is forged from steel – strong and enduring.

"We have always known that our bond is special, and I believe it is because we are soul friends – our love gifted by God, made to last for eternity. So though we may never be husband and wife, nothing shall ever break this bond that we have – not distance nor time. Our time together is precious, Edward – every single second of it – thus knowing how precious it is, let us make the most of it while we still can."

He looked at me first in astonishment, and then in awe.

"Jane," he said, evidently touched, "Are you sure you are willing to take the risk?"

Looking deep into his eyes, I said, "I trust you, Edward: I trust you not to cross the line – to do the right thing by the both of us. We must have faith in each other – it is the only way!"

"But what about eagle-eyed Mrs. Kirwan? Being around me might jeopardise your position in this household."

"I know, but ultimately, since you are so much more important to me than Mrs. Kirwan, I am willing to take that chance."

"My brave Jane." he whispered, placing his hand upon my cheek, making me tremble as his thumb gently, sensuously stroked my lips.

"I am not so brave, Edward." I replied breathlessly, "I do this because I want to be with you – I want to come home to you."

"Then come home." he summoned, drawing me into his arms.

My spirit leapt for joy as I rested my head upon his chest, breathing in his scent, listening to the beat of his heart. He breathed out a sigh of contentment and kissed my forehead, before enfolding me ever deeper in his arms.

As I basked in the warmth of his embrace, I heard him say feelingly, "Thank you for trusting me. I pray that I shall not let you down."

"You won't."

"Won't? How can you be so sure?"

I lifted my head, and gazing into his luminous eyes, I replied, "Because you are, dear Edward, still the best person I know."

* * *

**(1) Thanks to John O'Donohue's brilliant book, _Anam Cara _for the beautiful, lyrical description of soul friend and its place in the Celtic tradition.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Let's see how Edward is faring in this rather tricky situation.**

* * *

**An Irish Air**

_**= 13 =**_

"You were right in saying that she is talented." said Blake to me after dinner.

He was of course speaking of Jane, who sat quietly – radiantly – with Lady Blake and the children.

Blake continued, "I would go so far to say that she possesses extraordinary abilities for such a young girl."

"I am glad that you appreciate her talents. Not many would, you know."

"And she said you had taught her while she was at Thornfield?"

"Yes, the natural sciences – or what I know of it. She was interested; hence I was more than willing to impart my knowledge. Apart from Eshton, there are not many people in the world who claim an interest, as you very well know."

Blake chuckled. "Yes, I know that I have long disappointed the both of you with my lack of interest in science, but knowing what a sieve of a brain I have for facts, I had better stick to my horses and dogs!"

We both laughed and took a sip of our whiskeys.

"But more seriously," said I, "I must thank you for taking on Miss Eyre. I did not like sending her all this way on her own, but it was the least I could do to ensure that she had a good place to go to when Adèle went to school. A governess's life is tenuous at the very best. I could not bear to throw such a girl, already alone in the world, out to the wolves."

Blake looked back at Jane. "Such a brilliant girl without family or connections – that is a pitiful thing."

"Not pitiful, Blake – it is a source of inspiration."

I excused myself and walked over to join the little group. Jane eyes glittered when she spotted my approach, and I could not help but grin back. Then again, after this afternoon, I would grin at anything. I seated myself in an armchair adjacent to hers, and would have stared at her all night if it was not for Lady Blake.

"Ah, Mr. Rochester, just the man we wanted to see. Erroll here has some questions to ask of you."

"I told him that you have been to Africa." added Jane.

"Yes, that is so," I replied in the most serious manner, "So what would you like to ask me – out with it, boy!"

But the boy remained mum, gazing at me with large eyes before hastily whispering something into Jane's ear.

"It's alright," I heard her say; "He is not as frightful as he looks – truly."

The boy swallowed, and then said hesitantly, "Sir, have you seen a lion?"

"I have."

"And a… a hippopotamus?"

"That too."

The boy's face lit up. "Is it frightfully big?" he asked in excitement.

"Frightfully – and dangerous too – they can outrun a man if they wish."

After that it was inevitable that Erroll plied me with more questions, to the consternation of his sister, who also asked her fair share. Jane sat listening amusedly, and to my surprise I quite enjoyed this little interlude, until a disquieting thought came to me.

_Was this__ what it was like to have a family?_

I frowned, and my expression did not slip Jane by. She caught my eye questioningly, but not being able to voice my thoughts at that moment, I could only return a half-hearted smile.

_So close we are – and yet so very far__ away!_

_A__t least you know that she loves you and trusts you._

_But is her trust misplaced?_

Too soon, it was time for Jane and the children to retire for the night. I watched them go with regret, barely noticing that Arthur had returned to the drawing room and was studying me closely.

After breakfast the following morning, he invited me to go riding with him. Eager to stretch our legs before the party, we saddled our horses – magnificent geldings courtesy of our host – and galloped around the bay towards the nearby woods. After half-an-hour of hard riding, we reeled in the reins and slowed the horses down to an easy walk. Still, there was little talk, I being preoccupied with Jane, and Eshton – well, something was evidently troubling him, though I had no idea what it could be.

When we reached the edge of the woods, Eshton dismounted and suggested that we walked for awhile. I joined him on the ground and together we walked the horses towards the shore.

It was only then that Eshton remarked, "You seem a little happier of late, Edward."

I paused and looked at him cautiously.

"So do you, Arthur." Up until this morning, that is.

He continued, "I suppose the Irish air is doing us both a world of good."

"One cannot help feeling good when one is surrounded by this stunning prospect." I replied, looking out on to the vast Galway Bay with its uniformly clear skies, its sparkling blue water, and its emerald-green grass.

"So you would be glad to stay a little longer than a fortnight?"

I grinned. I would be happy to stay here all my life – as long as Jane was with me.

"Yes, Arthur, I shall be happy to extend our stay. But why this sudden change of plan?"

He looked ill-at-ease but still replied, "Nothing to speak of, Edward. Just like you, I have discovered the beauty of this place, and now find it hard to leave."

Somehow, his words made me uneasy, but I did not have time to dwell on it for he quickly added, "But one word of advice, Edward."

"Advice? About what?"

"About… About Miss Eyre. I noticed how you are getting on much better with her of late-"

"So you have been watching us? Spying on us?"

"No, of course not! But it was unusual to see the two of you together last night after you had scrupulously avoided her since we first arrived. Edward, as a friend who knows the extent of your situation, I just want you to think about what you are doing."

"What I am doing?" I cried furiously, "Who do you think I am? I am not out to ruin her, Arthur, but cannot two good friends spend some time together?"

"Not when they are practically lovers."

A charged pause.

Then Arthur said gently, "Look, I know you would not intentionally hurt her, but Edward, please be careful for there is so much at stake here."

_At stake? I kne__w very well what was at stake. But why was he concerned all of a sudden? _

And then it came to me.

_Oh, Arthur, surely not._


	14. Chapter 14

_**= 14 =**_

"What do you mean by there being 'much at stake'?" I asked Arthur roughly.

He reddened. "Only… Only that I want you to be cautious. Blake might not know the full extent of your situation, but there are plenty of people at Ardfry who are only willing to tell him – like that housekeeper of his who has eyes like a hawk."

"I know." I sighed, "Jane told me that Mrs. Kirwan was lurking about the library the other night when I summoned her there."

"And I have seen her give Miss Eyre a talking to more than once this week. I fear that one slip from either of you and she will be on her way."

"Blake would not send Jane away!" I roared.

"He might if he thinks he is risking the reputation of his household."

I frowned. "Yes, you are right. He would not risk that even for me."

Silently, I mulled over Arthur's warning – a warning that I took very much to heart since the last thing I wanted was to make Jane destitute. Yet despite his seemingly good intentions, I could not shake off the notion that he was holding something back.

I studied my friend closely, this friend whom I have known all my life – or thought I knew until now. He avoided my gaze, instead concentrating on rupturing the earth beneath his feet to the consternation of his horse, who detecting his nervousness, also did likewise.

"You had better secure that animal of yours before it tramples you." I told him.

"What?" he replied absently, "Oh yes, I shall do it directly…"

We hitched our horses to the nearest post and then returned to the shore. Again, I studied Arthur as he picked up a pebble and flung it out into the bay. We watched it skip four, five, six times, before it sank out of sight.

Then I asked, "What do you think of Miss Eyre?"

He gave me a sharp look before picking up another pebble. "You asked me this before."

"I know – back in London – but what do you think of her now that you have spent a good week in her company?"

Arthur skimmed the second pebble, watched it skip thrice, before he answered, "She is still a very bright, very lovely girl."

"Nothing more?"

"What do you mean, Edward?" he demanded, evidently ruffled by my line of questioning.

"I only want to know your true opinion of her." I replied calmly, "Do you like her?"

"Ah, _now_ we come to the real reason behind all this. You are jealous, aren't you?"

_Jealous? Was I jealous?_

_You are and you know it._

"Why, Edward? What do you have to be jealous about? You have her heart – she shall never give it to anyone else."

I sighed. "I may have her heart, but I cannot give her anything in return. And it is killing me, Arthur – killing me!"

Turning away, I muttered to myself, "What a farce this is!"

Ignoring my friend's pleas to stay, I strode swiftly back to my horse. I took the most direct route back to Ardfry, absently leaping over fences, dashing across fields and galloping down laneways, but no matter how fast I rode I could not escape the damning thoughts that hounded me.

Jealousy was a common sin of mine where Arthur was concerned. In our youth, young ladies would gravitate towards him. They found his good looks and cheerful demeanour more attractive than my coarse visage and circumspect manner – that is, until my great fortune and Arthur's relative poverty became known. Now here we were again, fifteen years later, but this time he held all the cards. For the truth of the matter is that he can marry Jane, while I cannot.

_Arthur and Jane – an impossibility!_

Yet in a twisted way, he had more right to her than I did. Arthur had not admitted it to me as yet – I did not even know if he had admitted it to himself – but Jane had piqued his interest. I had seen him talk to her with great animation, and I suspected that it would not take much for him to develop an affection for her – an affection that in time might lead to something deeper.

And what if Arthur did marry Jane? Through marriage, her safety and comfort would be assured. Arthur was a kind-hearted fellow who would do all he could to take care of her, and if they remained at the Leas then she would not be completely lost to me.

_B__ut what of her happiness? And what of yours? How would you feel being on the outer – watching them grow in love, seeing their children grow up?_

_I __could never bear it! Never! _

_But you cannot afford to be __so selfish, Rochester, not when you have nothing to give._

I returned my horse to the stables and slunk back to my chamber. Having ordered luncheon to be served within, I did not venture out until the afternoon when the guests for the party began to arrive.

The crunch of wheels over gravel first drew me to my window, and then the sight of Jane with Blake and his wife kept me there. I saw them warmly greet two lady guests – one a regal-looking woman close in age to myself, the other a young lady closer in age to Jane. I immediately identified them as Lady Martyn and Miss Joyce – Jane's companions on her journey to Ardfry.

Watching Jane compelled me to leave my chamber. I quickly made myself presentable and headed out as soon as I could, but to my dismay I was still too late – Jane and the two ladies had already disappeared within by the time I got outside. My hosts though were still present, and we were at hand to witness the arrival of Baron Trench – an imposing, upright man who brought with him his wife, daughter, and a young man. Strangely, it was the young man, Miss Trench's fiancé, who caught my attention.

"Richard Eyre, sir." he replied when Blake asked for his name.

My hosts glanced at each other.

"Eyre?" asked Blake, "My, this is quite a coincidence! Our governess has the exact same name, though she is from England."

The young man laughed. "So was my family originally, but now they are as Irish as can be having been in Galway these past two hundred years. But I would like to meet your Miss Eyre. Perhaps we have ancestors in common?"

Blake patted him on the back. "I guarantee that you shall do so tonight. She shall be in the drawing room with the children after dinner."

I managed to have a little conversation with Mr. Eyre not long after at the tea Lady Blake had arranged to welcome her guests. He was a slight, unremarkable-looking man of about thirty. But though he dressed well and was pleasant enough to talk to, I thought him, well, rather dull. An avid sportsman, he talked about his thoroughbreds and hunts with a little too much relish, going on and on about the recent hunts on his father's estate. Thus it was some time before I could steer him toward the subject I was most interested in – that of his relations.

In reply to my query about how he and his fiancée met, he said, "Oh, the Trenches are our nearest neighbours, hence I have known Frances – Miss Trench, I mean – since we were children. But my family originally came from Wiltshire with Cromwell. I have met my Wiltshire relations once or twice when I read at Cambridge, but I know they are not the only Eyre's in England. There is a northern branch, I believe, though I have only ever met one person from there – at college there was a fellow from Yorkshire whose mother was an Eyre. And now I shall meet another English Eyre. Tell me, do you know Miss Eyre at all?"

"Yes, quite well." I replied with a hint irony, "She was the governess of my ward, until she went to school not four months ago."

"Splendid!" he exclaimed, "And do you know anything about her family – where they are from?"

I realised then that I did not know much about Jane's family at all. Given the nature of her upbringing, it was not surprising that she hardly talked of them, not when it brought back so many painful memories. Yet I dearly wanted her to share them with me, for I dearly wanted to ease her pain.

To Mr. Eyre, I replied, "I am afraid that is something that you must find out for yourself. All I know is that her mother's family is from the North."

"So she is possibly from the northern branch." he said to himself. "May you introduce me to her tonight?"

"As you wish, Mr. Eyre."

The dinner that awaited us that evening was a lavish six-course affair, beginning with Galway Bay oysters and ending with an exquisite end-of-autumn pudding. The food was sumptuous to a fault, but I had little appetite for it or the company beside me. Arthur and I were placed on either side of the Miss Lynches – undoubtedly by Blake's design – but it was their misfortune to be seated beside two gentlemen as completely indisposed for conversation as we were.

Arthur evidently was not his usual self. He might have behaved impeccably, but he lacked his usual liveliness, and the tension that had sprung up between us in the morning was now tangible. As for me, there was only one person that I wanted to see, and she was nowhere in sight.

Miss Roslyn and Miss Alicia were well-bred ladies enough – handsome, intelligent, interesting – a cut above many of the ladies that populated most drawing rooms. A year ago, I might have taken to engaging in a little flirtation, but there was no such gregariousness from me now. I said only what was polite, and even that was trying. As the dinner wore on, I could detect that Arthur was also itching to get away.

Unfortunately, our release came three tedious hours later, when the table retired to the drawing room for coffee. But my perseverance was soon rewarded, for upon entering the room I was arrested by the most enchanting sight.

There was Jane Eyre, sitting on the settee with the Blake children. Though dressed simply in a pale, blue dress, she was more beautiful than the Miss Lynches with their French-style gowns. Her eyes sparkled in the soft light, and her hair – her hair was delightful, flowing down the side of her face and neck in soft trestles.

How I yearned to run my fingers through it, to undo the pins one by one so that it fell freely, as it had on the night she saved me from being burned in my bed. How I wanted to toss out all the room's occupants so I could have her all to myself! Of course, there was no possibility of that, but I could not resist being drawn to her.

I began to make my way toward the settee, but to my exasperation, Miss Joyce got there first. As I watched them strike up an animated conversation, I became aware of a presence beside me.

"Is the girl in the blue dress Miss Eyre?"

I acknowledged to Mr. Eyre that it was.

"Humph, I see no great family resemblance." he remarked with a tinge of disappointment.

"Apart from the fact that you are both small and slight brunettes?" I replied sarcastically.

"Oh yes, I suppose that is true, but her eyes and other features are quite dissimilar. Still, would it be any trouble for you to introduce me to her now?"

"No trouble at all. In fact, I would be delighted to."


	15. Chapter 15

_**= 15 =**_

Mr. Eyre and I approached the ladies, and as I came near I detected a blush upon Jane's cheeks. I greeted the children first of all, and had to laugh out loud when Miss Lizzy puzzlingly looked at my companion and said, "Miss Eyre, is that man your brother?"

I grinned. "Miss Eyre, do you think that introductions are in order?"

"Most certainly." she replied, "Mr. Rochester, allow me to introduce to you Miss Joyce."

The young lady beside Jane bowed smilingly. "How do you do, sir? I have heard much about you."

I lifted an eyebrow. "And what did you hear?"

"Good things, sir, many good things."

"Then I am afraid you have received a false impression of me!" I remarked with a grin, "But we shall rectify that later. Now, Miss Eyre, I am sure that you are interested in meeting this man as much as he is in meeting you." And turning to my companion, I said, "Mr. Richard Eyre, please meet Miss Jane Eyre."

To my amusement, I saw great astonishment on both sides.

"Jane Eyre?" he cried, "Why, that is my mother's name!"

Jane found it difficult to speak at all, although I could see that the surprise was not unwelcomed. Eventually, she managed to ask where he resided, but frowned when he in return asked about her own family.

"I am afraid that I know but little since my parents both died when I was an infant." she answered, "I have though lived in the North country most of my life, so it is possible that I may still have some distant relations there."

"I am sorry to her that, Miss Eyre, but the possibility of relative should not be discounted. One of the chaps at my college – St. John Rivers, he was called – said his mother was an Eyre from Yorkshire. Unfortunately, we were not the closest of friends so we have not kept in touch, otherwise I would introduce you to him."

Then Jane said quietly, "I – I do have one relative living – an uncle."

"Uncle?" I cried, suddenly feeling a sense of déjà vu.

She blushed. "Yes, though I did not know of his existence until very recently. My aunt only told me just before she died that one of my father's brothers was still alive and living in Madeira."

_Damn that aunt of hers!_ I fumed inwardly.

She brutalised Jane, sent her off to a living hell, and then had the gall to conceal the existence of possibly her father's only living relative. Jane might have had a happy childhood if she had been in his care.

_But then she might never have come to you__, and then where would you be?_

Jane continued, "I had been meaning to write to him but with my leaving Thornfield I have not had time until a month ago. Now I am waiting to receive an answer. I hope it shall not be long until I hear from him, and when I do my relations will be the first thing that I shall ask about."

I smiled gently. "I hope that you do find out more about your relations, Miss Eyre. I know how much you cherish family."

She smiled appreciatively at my words, but was interrupted by Lady Blake before she could say anything more. Her mistress beckoned the children to the piano and Jane accompanied them. At the instrument, she sat alongside Master Erroll, who was the first to play.

After his mother made a grand introduction, the boy played while Jane turned the pages. The piece was a Mozart minuet, and little Erroll attacked it with great flourish. It was a very accomplished performance for such a young boy, and his audience were greatly appreciative, giving him a grand applause. After bowing majestically, he then swapped places with sister. Not to be outdone, Miss Lizzy played a lively Irish air that had the whole room smiling and clapping in rapture.

"What talented children you have, Lady Blake." praised Mrs. Trench at the conclusion of the performance.

"Thank you, Mrs. Trench, though I cannot claim the whole of the credit. I am indebted to Miss Eyre, who has been meticulous in her teaching since she arrived."

I saw Jane beam with pride at her pupils, and I gave a silent prayer of thanks for making the right decision to send her here where her talents and efforts were much appreciated.

Lady Blake then offered the piano up to the floor and an impromptu concert ensued. There was no shortage of volunteers, and though I had seen a great many performances in my lifetime, even I was impressed by the quality in the room. It seemed to me that everyone could sing or play an instrument, and more often both.

I stood listening in quiet appreciation until Blake came up to me.

"Now Rochester, you must have your turn. I know how magnificent your voice is – it really has to be heard here."

I frowned. "It's in no way magnificent after the trying few months I have had."

"Don't be so modest, man. Your idea of a low standard would be high for everyone else. Come, you must be next."

When Miss Roslyn Trench vacated the piano, Blake ushered me to take her place.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a treat, for my friend Rochester has one of the best baritone voices I have ever heard!"

"Please disregard my friend Blake," I said dryly, "For I am afraid he is prone to exaggeration."

Blake laughed. "You must let the audience make up their own minds, Rochester."

As he walked away to his seat I frantically tried to think up a song to play. I wanted to play something that I knew well but could express what I felt for Jane. I longed to tell her that that though we faced a mountain of difficulties, we should seize this time that we had with both hands, so that we shall never regret missed opportunities.

And then it came to me – the perfect song, written by a man who understood what it was like to love with all one's soul – Shakespeare:

"O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?

O stay and hear; your true love's coming.

That can sing both high and low:

That can sing both high and low…

Trip no further, pretty sweeting;

Journeys end in lovers' meeting.

Every wise man's son doth know,

Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;

What's to come is still unsure:

What's to come is still unsure…

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure,

Youth's a stuff will not endure." (2)

I put the whole of my feelings into the song – the agony of our parting, the frustration of our reunion, the joy of our renewal – and such was the power of music, that by the time I came to the final verse, I felt as if I was soaring on air.

When the last note rang, I held my breath and immediately looked towards Jane. Our eyes locked, and my heart raced, for in her eyes I saw nothing but deep, affirming love. I hardly heard the applause that ensued, or registered the commendations from Blake and his other guests. Everything had fallen away except for Jane – my soul friend.

I came to when Lady Blake took my place at the piano. She concluded the concert by playing a waltz that signalled the start of the dancing. As I was still surrounded well-wishers, I was not able to immediately go to Jane, and to my chagrin, when I next glanced in her direction I saw that she was leaving the room with the children. Somehow I extricated myself from my so-called admirers and managed to catch up with her and the children just as they were ascending the stairs.

"You shall not dance, Miss Eyre?"

Turning around, she shook her head. "The little ones are flagging and must go to bed."

"We are not tired!" they both cried. "Must we go to bed?"

"I am afraid you must, particularly when the both of you have been yawning for the past half-an-hour."

"But shall you return afterwards?" I asked expectantly, "The fun is only beginning."

She smiled. "Perhaps, Mr. Rochester – if I feel up to it."

I grinned back. "I hope you are – I _know _you are."

She only gave me a smile, before she shepherded the children up the stairs.

In her absence, I did not return to the drawing room but slipped down a quiet hallway. I opened a door that led to the garden, but it was so frigid outside that I did not get any farther than the threshold. Still, it was good to inhale the frosty air, and I decided to remain there awhile. I took out a cigar, which took many tries for me to light. When it did I inhaled it gratefully.

Looking out into the darkness – for there was nary a moon that night – I thought back over the past week in which I had experienced a gamut of emotions. I became conscious of my still racing heart, and immediately thought of Jane in the drawing room – her blue dress perfect against her rosy skin and flowing brown hair – such beauty and vitality that completely mastered me.

_Yet by this time next week, you shall be gone._

_But__ where shall I go? What shall I do? _

I had no idea at all – my future was as black as the Galway night.

But it was imperative that I must go. Despite her faith in me, I endangered her livelihood with every hour that I stayed. There was no doubt that I had given myself away just then in the drawing room, since even a blind man would have noticed the passionate glances I gave her. I cannot afford to risk her future any further. I must bring myself to leave, and soon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a light in the hallway – a candle seemingly floating through the darkness. I watched the light come closer and soon saw the person that carried it – Jane. By candlelight she looked ethereal, translucent. When she spotted me in the doorway she smiled so sweetly that it broke my heart. How could I ever leave this lovely girl?

"Finally, I have found you." she said cheerfully, "I think I have searched the entire house – not an easy task by candlelight, I must say. Why aren't you in the drawing room?"

"It is much too heated in there. Out here is much better."

"But you shall catch your death!"

"Does it matter?"

My despondency surprised her. She studied me for a long moment, and with a sigh said, "Edward, do not speak so. Of course you matter – to me you shall always matter."

That made me smile. I stared her by the flickering candlelight, and with an unsteady hand gently stroked the lock of hair that fell down her cheek. "Your hair," I murmured, "It is so beautiful tonight."

She blushed. "Máire insisted on dressing it like this, although I thought it much too elaborate."

"I am glad she insisted – it is perfect."

"And so was your song, Edward."

I smiled. "One day I shall sing it for you, and only you." Then eyeing the candle in her hand, I said, "Let us get rid of this."

I took the candle from her and blew it out. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, but I did not need light to see my Jane.

We stood together in the darkness, arms just touching, listening to the night sounds around us – the blowing wind, the music and chatter from the drawing room, each other's breathing.

She shivered. "Are you cold?" I asked.

"No. Take a look at the sky."

Immediately my head was turned toward the heavens. There, a symphony of stars greeted us in every direction, so vast that one can become lost by simply gazing.

"Is it not wondrous?" said Jane. I looked down to see her smile so dazzlingly that it rendered me breathless.

"When I see a bright night sky like this, I cannot help but feel a shiver down my spine. I feel like I am in the arms of my Maker, and in His embrace, I feel that I belong. After Helen died, the only time I felt truly loved was when I looked at the stars, and I often prayed for wings so that I could fly up to the heavens and remain there."

My heart broke as I pictured a lonely little girl, gazing up at the night sky from her bed, yearning to belong, thirsting for love. As a boy, I too yearned for love – for the love of my distant father, for the love of my long deceased mother. It was why I searched so long and hard for my soul mate – and having found her, why I could not bear to relinquish her.

"You have me now." I whispered, "And I love you."

As if by their own volition, our hands sought each other, our fingers intertwining into a perfect mesh. Slowly, we turned toward each other so that we were face-to-face. I looked deep into her eyes that even in darkness blazed with love – a love that pierced my soul.

Without another thought, I leaned forward and kissed her. To my delight, she did not pull away, but sighed with pleasure. Slowly, her arms travelled around my back as she leant into me, kissing me back with a passion that thrilled and aroused me. Groaning against her lips, I kissed hungrily, intensely, until nothing mattered except the feel and the taste of her.

"Edward," she managed to whisper, "We should not-"

"We should!" I growled. "What if we never meet again? What if-"

I groaned and kissed her more forcefully. "There shall be no 'what-ifs' for us, my love – none!"

She could only moan in reply as we once again lost ourselves in each other. I wrenched her to me and felt the exquisite pleasure of her soft breasts against my chest. Pulling away from her mouth, I dipped my head to trace with my lips the smoothness of her cheek, earlobes and neck, extracting whimpers of delight along the way. Soon, my hands too began to explore, slipping eagerly down her back to cup her buttocks.

I was fast approaching the point of no return, but though my mind cried out in alarm, there seemed to be no stopping my craving for her.

Until I heard a voice cry out, "Who's there?"

* * *

**(2) This is of course from William Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_. Act II, scene iii.**


	16. Chapter 16

_**= 16 =**_

I froze. My heart thudded frantically as I pulled away, my breathing as rapid as if I had just run a mile.

The stern voice commanded, "Come out at once!"

"It's Mrs. Kirwan." Jane whispered ominously.

_Mrs. Kirwan? __Blast that woman!_

I looked outside. "Can you enter the house by another way?"

She nodded.

"Then go!" I hissed, almost pushing her out into the night.

When Jane was out of sight I breathed a sigh of relief. Then taking out another cigar, I lit it with trembling hands. I was just taking my first breath when Mrs. Kirwan reached me.

She blinked when she recognised me. "Oh, it is you, sir." she said, obviously disappointed. "My apologies, I thought I heard… well, never mind."

I had to refrain myself from smiling when I said, "It is only me."

"Then why did you not reply when I called?"

"You called? I did not hear you since I was just outside taking in the air."

She looked aghast. "In all this wind?"

"It was quite refreshing after the heat of the drawing room."

"Humph. Well, I advise you to stay indoors tonight for I fear there is a storm brewing."

She pulled the door firmly shut, but while looking downward she noticed Jane's candle.

"Is that yours, sir?"

"Yes," I snapped, "Did you expect me to walk around in the dark?"

"Of course not. I only ask because that particular candlestick belongs to the nursery. Where did you find it?"

"It was on the sideboard in the drawing room." I lied.

She stared at me closely for a moment. I stared straight back, not daring to flinch. To my relief she made no further comment, instead taking up the candle and relighting it.

"We cannot have you walking around in the dark." she said wirily, "Are you in need of anything else, sir?"

_Nothing that you can give me,_ I thought wickedly.

"No, Mrs. Kirwan. I think I shall retire to my chamber."

"Then I bid you good night, sir." she said, handing me the lighted candle.

I waited until the sound of her tread faded away. Then putting down the candle, I inhaled my cigar in deep, long breaths in an attempt to calm myself. Frustratingly, nothing I did had any effect, not when the memory of Jane was still fresh on my mind – the sight, feel, smell, and taste of her – the searing urgency of desire, the complete loss of control – incredible but altogether frightening sensations.

It was foolish to think that I could remain circumspect in her presence. I knew very well how my urges could conquer me; how my desire had the power to lead me not only to ecstatic pleasures but also to the depths of damnation. It had been so with all my mistresses – and it had been so with Bertha. If I had not been so easily led I could have avoided at least half of the misery I have had to endure. And here I was once again – except this time I was endangering a woman I loved more than life itself.

My little firebird – I hoped that she had found her way through the storm. I wanted to seek her out, make sure that she got in safely, but restrained myself for I knew that further meetings tonight was unwise.

There was no question about it – I had to leave Ardfry – but leaving was all the more difficult since I had no way of securing her future once I was gone. Not that Blake would throw her out on to the street, but I know my Jane. At the first sign of trouble, she would go out and advertise. The last time she had done so she found me, but what if she fell into the hands of some unscrupulous family? How could I ensure that this did not happen?

Since sleep would have been impossible to come by, I took up the candle and headed for the library in search of a nightcap. Unfortunately, Arthur had beaten me to it and was already lounging in front of the fire with a drink in his hand.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Please yourself." he replied brusquely.

Putting down my candle, I poured myself a whiskey and then sat beside him. We sipped our drinks in tense silence for sometime, neither willing to discuss the issue that loomed like a spectre between us. Eventually, it was Arthur who broke the silence.

"You did not heed my warning, didn't you?" he berated, "What in damnation were you trying to do, Edward?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean – in the drawing room – the song – Miss Eyre! Now the whole of Ardfry thinks you are having a clandestine affair with the governess."

His words rang true, and shamefaced, I looked down at the glass in my hand, swirling the amber liquid within it.

"Is that what they think?" I murmured.

Arthur gave a sigh of exasperation. "For Christ's sake, you are not stupid, Edward, but sometimes you can be so damn foolish! I know how much you care for Miss Eyre, but can you not see the harm that you are doing her? I am beginning to regret ever bringing you here."

I sniggered. "Do you now?" I took another sip of my drink and said quietly, "This debacle is exactly what I feared from the start, for you see, Arthur, I can no longer conceal my feelings for Jane. I might have been able to once, when I was still unsure of how she felt about me, but not now, not when I know that she loves me with all her heart."

Arthur shook his head. "Edward, it pains me to tell you this, but you have no other choice – you must go."

"I know, and soon – only…"

I swallowed. "I fear for Jane's future, Arthur. She has had a hard life thus far, but although she is the most resilient person I know, I do not want her to suffer any more hardship. If anything should happen here she would have nowhere to go, and since I have no means of protecting her, of providing for her, someone else must do it for me."

I stared at my friend, saw his eyes widen as he realised what I was asking of him.

"Edward, your eccentric mind scares me." he said uneasily.

"But you like her, do you not?"

"Yes, but it is much too early to say whether I could love her."

I laughed. "It is never too early. I loved her from the first moment I saw her."

"Well, that is not the case with me. I like her and enjoy her company very much – but that is all for the present."

We stared at the fire for a long time.

"Do you truly wish me to marry her?"

I sighed. "It might sound strange to you, but it would be a comfort to me to know that you shall honour and respect Jane, and that she shall live a comfortable life with you."

"What about what she wants?" he argued, "I know she will never have me."

"How do you know?"

"The way she looked at you this evening told me everything I needed to know."

"Isn't friendship and mutual respect enough?"

He laughed bitterly. "You of all people know that it isn't, and I will not marry for anything other than love. Go to bed, Edward. It has been a long day and your mind is no doubt muddled. Things should be clearer in the morning."

After throwing back the rest of my whiskey, I growled, "I damn well hope so."

Mrs. Kirwan was right – there was a storm brewing. As I got into bed I noticed that the wind had increased to a gale-like ferocity, howling like a banshee and violently rattling the casement. Morning brought little relief, bringing torrential rain that made the day very dreary indeed.

Having had very little sleep, I woke up late and not in the least refreshed. I dragged myself to a late breakfast, and was not surprised to find most of the guests still lingering about the breakfast parlour, moaning about the weather. What did surprise me was that I was accosted by Mrs. Kirwan not two seconds after entering the room.

"Letter for you, sir." she abruptly said, "Came by express early this morning."

I took the letter and examined it. From the seal and the hand, I recognised it as being from Mrs. Fairfax – the last person I wanted to hear from. Still, what she had to say must be urgent if she had sent it express. I was about to open it, but upon seeing Mr. Eyre and the stern Baron Trench approach, I pocketed the letter instead.

Despite his crusty demeanour, Baron Trench was a surprisingly engaging man, full of amusing anecdotes from his career as a diplomat to the Low Countries. Arthur joined us mid-way through the conversation, and having studied in Belgium for many years was particularly interested in the Baron's stories. They initially talked of their common experiences in the country, but when the conversation turned to the quagmire that is English and Dutch trade relations, I made my escape.

Finding the drawing room empty, I walked over to the settee that Jane had occupied, fingering the warm upholstery before sitting down upon it. For awhile, I listened to the rain beat against the casement, then taking out the letter; I began to read.


	17. Chapter 17

**We are back to Jane's POV now, and things come a head.  
**

* * *

**Together Alone**

_**= 17 =**_

I gasped with shock as soon as the icy wind hit my skin. It must have been close to freezing, and my thin shawl was wholly inadequate to fend off the chill. Wrapping the flimsy material about me, I hastened through the darkness toward the servant's entrance on the other side of the house, but the wind was so cold that I had not made it half way before I began to shiver.

When I finally got to the entrance, I was faced with another problem – a pair of visiting valets stood guard at the door, smoking and talking. It would not do to attract their attention so I hid behind a bush and waited. By the time they returned inside my teeth were chattering, but fortunately I was able to dash inside and return to my chamber unseen.

As soon as I bolted my door, I wrapped myself in a thick, woollen shawl and stood in front of the fire until the shivering subsided. Then replacing my dress with my nightgown, I climbed underneath the covers. Still, the feeling of cold did not entirely abate – my feet remained ice-cold and the rest of me could not seem to get warm. Closing my eyes, my thoughts immediately drifted to Edward – his yearning, passionate kisses, the feel of his hands upon me – the feeling that what we did was so very right.

_Jane Eyre, you __forget yourself! Such things can never be right! _

_But how can it be wrong to be so loved?_

_When it is wrong in the eyes of the law and in the eyes of God, you silly fool!_

Somehow I managed to drift into a restless sleep where I dreamed of the jewel-like eyes of my lover – his husky voice sending shivers of delight down my spine, his kisses as blistering as fiery embers, his deft fingers caressing me from head to foot. My dream lover pulled me into his hard chest, and as he did I felt my skin dissolve into his, merging us into one physical body. The feel of him in me and me in him was akin to ecstasy, and the sensation of his heart beating within my breast suspended all fears so that we floated in a cocoon of happiness.

But as we revelled in bliss, a wild-haired demon bounded in, destroying our cocoon in one fell swoop, and we were agonisingly ripped apart, atom-by-atom. Separated once more we shrivelled until we were merely skin and bone, devoid as we were of happiness, of love, of hope.

I awoke to an aching head, a sweaty brow, and a heart was heavy with desolation. If my dream was a sign of what was to come, then would Edward forget me once he left Ardfry? Was I destined to live alone, mourning the loss of my soul friend for the rest of my life?

A knock. "Miss Eyre? Are you there?"

It was Máire. Looking at my pocket watch, I saw that I had slept so long that I would be late for the children's lessons if I did not hurry. I struggled out of bed and opened the door.

"Miss, you look a fright! I got worried when you did not come to breakfast, but now I see that you are not well."

"I am very well!" I protested, "I only need to eat a little."

"If you say so, miss." Máire said reluctantly. "The children shall be ready in half-an-hour."

"Don't worry, I shall be there."

My body felt sluggish and a little feverish as I washed and dressed. By the time I entered the servant's dining room, the sideboard was bare and the room deserted. Since most were undoubtedly going about their duties in the breakfast parlour I went into the kitchen where the cook was laying out toast. She gave me an annoyed glance when I asked if she could set some aside for me, but nevertheless handed me a few slices and a cup of tea. I took my breakfast back to the empty dining room and ate it there, but just as I was consuming my last morsel of toast, I saw Mrs. Kirwan enter.

"You are late. Where were you at breakfast, Miss Eyre?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Kirwan. I'm afraid that I overslept this morning."

She looked at her watch and said, "And late for the children's lessons too, I see. The mistress will not be pleased."

She studied me grimly. "You are very pale, Miss Eyre, as if you are feverish. What on earth were you doing last night?"

I replied, "I put the children to bed and then retired to my room. I had not a very restful sleep because the storm kept me awake, but otherwise I am fine."

"So you did not come downstairs again? Because Mr. Rochester found the nursery candle in the drawing room."

_The candle – I had forgotten about the candle!_

"No," I lied, "I went straight to bed."

She was not entirely convinced but thankfully let the subject pass. "Well, with winter here these storms will be as regular as clockwork. I suppose you don't get such fierce weather where you're from but you must get used to it here. I cannot have you poorly and expose the children to illness when they are such delicate creatures."

"I shall take care, Mrs. Kirwan. Now you must excuse me or I will really be late for the children's lessons."

I made my way back upstairs and met Miss Joyce coming out of the breakfast parlour. She invited me to have tea with her – an invitation I readily accepted. After agreeing to meet with her in the afternoon, I was finally able to rush upstairs to the school room. Mercifully, the children were in a good mood after their triumphant performances last night. I would have had little patience to deal with their misdemeanours, for my body weakened as the morning wore on. I was glad when luncheon came around for I needed the rest. A little nap would have done nicely, but as I made my way to my chamber, I saw Edward approach. He had a look of infinite grimness that I often saw in the days when he first returned to Thornfield – a look that alarmed me.

I forgot my infirmity and immediately asked, "Is there anything wrong?"

He gave me a half-smile. "When is anything ever right, Jane?"

Edward looked so defeated that I knew that something terrible had happened – but what?

But instead of continuing, he asked me, "Are _you_ well, Jane? You are so pale. Did you catch a chill when I forced you outside last night?"

"No, I am well, just a little tired."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't worry about me. What about _you_?"

He looked down the long corridor, before suggesting, "Shall we walk to the end there?"

I nodded. We walked slowly to the large windows at the end of the corridor, and then looked out on the stormy landscape – the fierce wind that threatened to snap trees in two, the whipping rain that lashed horizontally across the fields.

When he did not speak I put my hand gently on his arm. "Tell me, what is the matter?"

He dropped his head, and whispered, "I must go."

"When?"

"Today."

A knot tightened in my stomach. "So soon?"

He nodded. "I just received a letter from Mrs. Fairfax. Grace has been wounded. She had a little too much to drink, as is her wont of late, but this time Bertha took full advantage of her indiscretion."

I shivered. _The wild-haired demon in my dream – it was Bertha!_

The horrors that she caused at Thornfield instantly came to me – the attempted burning of her husband, the biting and the stabbing of her brother. What has she done now?

"Is Mrs. Poole much injured?"

He nodded. "She was stabbed in the stomach. Luckily Carter got to her quick enough to prevent her from bleeding to death."

I clutched his arm, drawing him close. "Poor Mrs. Poole…"

"She is under his care now, but not likely to recover for some weeks, perhaps months. In the meantime, Bertha is without a carer. The servants have looked after her so far, but none of them are fit to do it permanently – that task falls to me."

He laughed bitterly. "Poor Grace. She does not deserve such a fate since the fault is mine to begin with. That is what happens when one neglects one's wife – one's life literally falls apart around you! But this time I shall attend to my duties – I shall never escape from Thornfield again!"

There was such pain in his voice, in his look, that I was ready to do anything to ease it. "You cannot do this alone, Edward. Let me help you – let me help you take care of Bertha."

He gave me a forlorn smile. Then lifting a hand to my cheek, he stroked it softly with his thumb, and said, "You don't know what you are asking, my little firebird. Your selflessness, loving heart might think that you are doing me a good turn, but I shall not let you condemn yourself. Opportunities await you – you have an uncle in Madeira, and newfound relatives and friends that will certainly change your life for the better. Let me go to hell alone, as I deserve."

"No!" I cried. "How many times do I have to tell you that you are a good man and deserve better? I shall not let you go alone, for I cannot abandon any friend of mine."

"You talk of friends, Jane, but can you see us remaining just friends if you do come with me?"

He stared piercingly at me, and there was no hiding the fact that as much as I loved him, I also desired him with all my being.

"You and I know that we are not the platonic sort, Jane, as last night's encounter testified, and if I cannot marry you then it is better that I not have you at all."

His eyes were flint-like, full of bitter acceptance at his fate. No longer able to hide my anxiety, I wept – not for the prospect of a life without him, but for the kind of life he had been condemned to – spending day after day in that cold, damp tower – risking life and limb to attend to his wife. He would be worn down in a matter of weeks, and shrivel up to nothing as he had in my dream.

When he saw my tears, his hard countenance crumbled. Without a word we threw our arms around each, grasping each other as if our lives depended upon it.

"Jane…" he whispered, "I don't know what I will do without you."

"Then don't do without me – let me share your burden. Write to me – about anything you like, no matter how trivial – I want to hear all of it."

To my surprise, I heard him chuckle. "Do you? Even about Pilot's latest misdemeanour?"

"_Especially_ about Pilot's misdemeanours. Please Edward, promise me that you will write."

"I promise!" he rasped.

"Good." I replied, smiling into his chest. "For though I may be five hundred miles away, I am still yours – whether you like it or not."


	18. Chapter 18

_**= 18 =**_

The rest of the afternoon went by in a haze: I watched Edward's carriage disappear into the mist out of which he appeared over a week ago, and then went and supervised the children's art class. When it was time to have tea with Miss Joyce I found that I was not up to it – by then fatigue as well as fever had overtaken me. I sent her a note to apologise for my absence before retiring to my room, but instead of being left to rest, I soon had Lady Blake at my door. My mistress was alarmed when she saw me and promptly ordered me to bed.

"You poor dear," she crooned, "You should have told me you were ill. You cannot be exerting yourself with the children in this state."

Despite my protests, she immediately sent for a cold compress and tureen of chicken broth.

"You must keep up your strength if you are to recover." she said, "Máire told me you missed luncheon – that will not do, my dear. You must take better care of yourself."

"Please, you do not need to go to all this trouble, Lady Blake." I insisted.

"But of course I do." she countered, "You are living under my roof and are practically family now – and I always take care of my family."

She was right, of course – my body, as well as my soul, ached for rest. After consuming a bowl of soup I slept for sixteen hours straight, and when I awoke the next morning my fever had gone, replaced by a less alarming head cold. There was however no relieving my melancholy.

I missed Edward terribly – I could feel my heartstrings stretch as the distance between us grew once more, as life once again threatened to submerge us. I imagined Edward on his way back to Thornfield – grimly desolate on the endless roads back to Dublin; leaning against the rail on the steamer as it crossed the Irish Sea; his head drooping in defeat. I whispered his name, so that the chord between us vibrated across the ether. My sheer need for him was like a fast-flowing stream, desperate to find an outlet. It compelled me to brave the cold of the room to retrieve my notebook. When I settled back under the covers, I took up a pencil and wrote:

"Together alone,

Above and beneath,

We were as close

As anyone can be.

Now you are gone

Far away from me.

As is once

Will always be,

Together alone.

Together alone,

Shallow and deep,

Holding our breath,

Paying death no heed.

I'm still your friend

When you are in need.

As is once

Will always be,

Earth and sky,

Moon and sea." (3)

Underneath the poem, I sketched my vision of Edward, alone on the deck of the steamer, his anguished eyes gradually emerging from my pencil. When it was complete, I stared at it for a long time, and after saying a prayer for him, I tucked the page into my bedside drawer and succumbed once more to sleep.

I drifted in and out of slumber for most of the morning. At noon Lady Blake came to check on me, bringing with her Miss Joyce. My mistress only stayed long enough to determine that I must continue to rest for at least another day, but Miss Joyce insisted on having luncheon with me. After watching me nibble on a mutton chop, she announced that she had a surprise in store.

"The children charged me with the task of giving you these." she told me cheerfully, handing me two drawings. "They drew them this morning especially for you."

"My, how lively they are." I remarked with a smile as I studied Erroll's drawing of a dragon and Lizzy's sketch of fluttering fairies.

"They are such sweet creatures." she praised.

"They certainly are, and I am lucky to have them, as I have been lucky with all of my pupils." I replied, suddenly thinking of Adèle.

"What is it, Miss Eyre?" asked Miss Joyce when I remained mum.

"I was thinking of my former pupil – Mr. Rochester's ward. I hope she is well. She was not so the last time I saw her."

"Why? Was she ill?"

"No, but I am afraid Adèle took my departure very hard. I don't blame her. I can understand what it is like to be completely alone in the world – and knowing that, my leaving must seem to her like abandonment."

"But she still has Mr. Rochester, has she not?"

"Yes, but he has not a natural affinity with children, I am afraid. He was only beginning to get to know Adèle when… When he went away too."

I stopped – felt my eyes well up with tears – knew that one word was enough to break me.

"Miss Eyre…" my companion said compassionately, taking my hand as I struggled to recover. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to – because I think I know. It is Mr. Rochester, isn't it?"

"You must think me foolish to love such a man." I said tearfully, "You think that he is too far above my station – that he could never love me!"

She shook her head and gave my hand a squeeze. "I saw how he looked at you the other night in the drawing room, and from that one glance it was obvious that he returned your feelings. My heart goes out to you, Miss Eyre – to be parted from a loved one – no wonder you are so despondent. But would it not ease your sorrow to talk about him?"

I shook my head violently. "That is one thing that I cannot do! There are other complications than just mere rank and wealth – complications that I have vowed to keep secret."

"You misunderstand me. I did not ask you to break any kind of confidentiality, but for your own sake, you must ease your heart."

She looked at me kindly. "I have seen first-hand how it is to lose one's heart. The summer before I became Lady Martyn's companion, my sister's fiancé died at sea. My sister did not speak of her sorrow but instead concealed herself in her room for days on end. She changed from a lively girl to a creature completely devoid of bloom. I do not want this to happen to you, which is why I am imploring you to seek a confidante. There are good, trustworthy people in the world. I know my grandmother is one of them. She is a wise woman, discrete, and a good listener. In fact, it would benefit both of you to meet since she also wants to meet you."

"Me? Why?"

"I told her about you on my visit the other day, about how we met on the steamer to Dublin, and she said, 'That sounds like a very brave girl' and urged me to bring you to see her. So would you like me to introduce you to her before I go?"

I imagined that wise woman, a woman who seemed to know about matters of the heart. Surely she would understand.

"Yes, I would be delighted to meet her."

Miss Joyce smiled. "Good. When you are better, we shall visit her in Oranmore."

Miss Joyce was not my only visitor that day. After dinner, the children came with Máire, their happy faces as bright as a rainbow after a storm.

"Oh Miss Eyre, we thought you were dying!" Lizzy wailed while throwing her arms around me, much to Máire's dismay.

"We were ever so worried." chimed her brother as he too hugged me tightly.

"Oh my dear, you needn't be." I assured them, kissing their little foreheads. "I shall be back in the school room before you know it."

"I am _so_ glad!" exclaimed Lizzy, before adding, "Did you get our pictures?"

"Yes, I did – I thank you. See, they have pride of place in my chamber now." said I, pointing to where Miss Joyce had placed them on the dresser.

"And did you know what we did today?"

They proceeded to fill me in about their day and would have happily prattled on all night if it were not for Máire who was charged with putting them to bed. Upon hearing a knock on the door, she said, "That is the signal for us to go. Come children, we're off to bed."

She ushered her reluctant charges out the door, and to my astonishment, let in Mrs. Kirwan. The housekeeper closed the door and glided to the centre of the room. She looked more formidable than usual in the evening gloom. A great uneasiness came over me for I sensed that she had not come to exchange pleasantries. I was right.

"I am very disappointed, Miss Eyre." she began, her brown eyes boring into mine, "_Excessively_ disappointed. Do you know why?"

"No, Mrs. Kirwan." I replied as stoically as I could.

"Because you have threatened the reputation of this house with your indiscretions!"

I was stunned. "I am sorry Mrs. Kirwan, but I have not a clue what you are speaking of."

She grew ever sterner. "Insolent girl! Your plans for concealment shall not work with me. Might I remind you that you are under my charge and that I have the power to dismiss you for your impropriety?"

"It is not insolence when I do not know what I have done wrong!"

"I knew there was something suspicious about you from the moment you arrived. There was no doubt that you had disgraced yourself in the eyes of your former master. Why else would he send you hundreds of miles to be a governess when there are surely plenty of positions in your own country? And when he came your way again, what did you do but throw yourself at him in the most shocking way. I saw that you sought him out every chance that you got until you gave him no choice but to flee!"

Though her accusations were completely off the mark, they nonetheless struck me hard. I could see how Mrs. Kirwan could misconstrue my actions in such a way because instead of leaving Mr. Rochester alone, instead of doing my best to dampen my feelings, I had let them burn bright and strong. It had attracted the censure that I dreaded from the very first – censure that could well bring about my downfall.

Yet I could not stand falsely accused – I must try to defend myself. But how could I defend myself when Mrs. Kirwan was so wholly against me – when she would simply dismiss my testament as hearsay?

There must be a way – I _must_ find a way.

* * *

**(3) Adapted from _Together Alone_ by Crowded House.**


	19. Chapter 19

_**= 19 =**_

Mrs. Kirwan stood firm, eyeing me with obvious contempt. I took a deep breath, and steeling myself against her iron stare, replied, "I am sorry if you received that impression, ma'am, but I was unaware that conversing with guests was an indiscretion."

"I am not talking about mere conversation!" she snapped, "Governesses should not shun conversation, but neither should they initiate it or worse, unnecessarily prolong it."

"But is it not better to be on friendly terms?" I argued.

"You were more than 'friendly', Miss Eyre – you overstepped the bounds of propriety! On countless occasions did I find you alone with a gentleman – and more than once at night! Do you not see what that implies? I dare not guess what others in this house think of your behaviour. In the drawing room the other evening, you positively ogled at Mr. Rochester. Worse still, I am sure that you cornered him afterwards. Why else would he leave in such haste the following day? It was _you_ who drove him out."

"I did no such thing!" I cried, "Mr. Rochester left because he had to attend to some urgent family matters back in England."

She laughed. "Unless you can read his mind, you have no way of knowing this since he would not have told you."

"But he _did_ tell me."

"And why would Mr. Rochester confide in his former governess, pray?"

"Because we are friends."

Mrs. Kirwan laughed harder. "Friends?" she sneered, "_You_ his friend? Great men do not befriend young girls of their own class let alone their governesses."

"But I only speak of the truth!"

"And pigs might fly!" she cried, and then taking a deep breath, said, "Why do you persist with this pretense? I am a patient and just woman, Miss Eyre, but your behaviour has been so alarming of late that I have reached the end of my tether."

"If you are patient and just then you would not be so quick to condemn! Truly, I do not know what I have done wrong! Since I arrived here I have done my best, worked hard, and so far Lady Blake has been satisfied with her children's progress."

"My concerns are not with your teaching, Miss Eyre, but with your behaviour _outside_ the schoolroom."

"But I have done nothing that I am ashamed of!"

"Really? What about that time in the library? You were alone with Mr. Rochester for almost half-an-hour. Had I not directed Mr. Eshton to the library, heaven knows what would have happened."

"Your interference was unnecessary as we did nothing more than talk." I replied coldly, "Besides, Mr. Rochester would never hurt me."

"If that is your belief then you must be more stupid than I thought. A woman cannot be too careful, Miss Eyre, and the quicker you learn this lesson the better. I have long learned that one must keep one's distance from a man until one is entirely sure of his intentions, and if one cannot tell then it is better not to pursue the acquaintance."

"If that is the case then I shall never make any friends at all!"

"A better proposition than to lose your reputation! That though is not my greatest concern – I am more concerned about the reputation of this house which a single rumour is powerful enough to ruin. And the rumours _have_ started, for your conduct has not come only to _my_ notice but the notice of the entire servant hall!"

I gaped, horrified. "How… How can that be?"

"Because there were many eyes on you the other night in the drawing room, Miss Eyre, and not just those of the guests. The servants are now filled with talk of you setting your cap on Mr. Rochester. I cannot go downstairs now without hearing your name mentioned."

"But that is preposterous! I would never do such a thing!"

"Would you not? Even though he possesses more riches that you could ever dream of?"

"No! I would never commit such a mercenary act because I would never marry for anything but love."

She studied me for a long moment. "So you think you are in love?"

I flushed with embarrassment.

"And that Mr. Rochester is with you, no doubt. Well, I am sorry to burst your bubble but I doubt that he was acting out of more than mere politeness. Even if he was in love with you, love does not guarantee marriage in so unequal a match as this. Believe me, I have seen more equal matches come unstuck, and there is no way on earth that yours will make it to the altar let alone survive it. Take my advice, Miss Eyre, and stick to your duties, because if you are foolish enough to repeat this week's performance then I shall dismiss you directly. Do you understand?"

Mrs. Kirwan's penetrating eyes bored into mine as I nodded silently, gravely. She departed without saying another word. When her footsteps receded, I laid back on my bed, reeling from the shock of the confrontation. I came within an inch of being dismissed – within an inch of destitution – and the jolt shook me to the core.

_You stupid girl! You failed to listen to your conscience – now reap the consequences!_

I cried heartily – for my foolishness, for the loneliness that surrounded me like the blackest night. I longed for Edward. Where was he? Was he in Dublin, strolling by the River Liffey? Was he on the high seas, or perhaps within sight of the docks of Liverpool? I said a silent prayer for him:

"Lord, be with my Edward." I whispered, "And be with me, too."

I fell asleep with this prayer in my heart, and when I awoke, it was to the sound someone of sweeping the hearth. Surprisingly, I felt much better, despite all that happened yesterday. In fact, it made me more determined to get back on my feet and prove to Mrs. Kirwan that I would not be intimidated.

"Good morning, Nora." I murmured to the young housemaid, startling her. She grew even more startled when I tried to get out of bed.

"No, Miss! You mustn't get up so quickly or you might faint."

"But I must get up!" I insisted, "I have spent long enough in bed."

"Then let me help you."

After she assisted me out of bed, she asked, "Shall I send for your breakfast?"

"No. I would like to take it in the breakfast parlour as usual."

The maid scrunched her forehead. "Are you sure that is wise? It is no trouble for me to order it for you."

I gave her a determined stare. "I am sure."

Thankfully Nora was not put off by my mood, for when she saw that I had trouble fastening my frock she directly came to my aid. In the end, the maid was so helpful that I felt a little guilty for my prior outburst.

"Thank you, Nora. You are a godsend." I told her.

"You are welcome, Miss. I just hope I didn't dirty your dress with my sooty hands."

I shook my head. "You will be a lady's maid yet."

Evidently pleased, she curtseyed sweetly before continuing on with the cleaning. I made my way to the breakfast parlour to find that I was a little early – the only person in the room was Mr. Eshton. He stood by the window, teacup in hand, so completely lost in thought that he did not hear me enter. Not wanting to disturb his reverie, I went straight to the sideboard for some tea. The clink of china roused him.

"Miss Eyre! Good morning!" he greeted in a tone so welcoming that it brought a glow to my heart. Abandoning his window post, he joined me at the sideboard where he insisted on fetching my breakfast.

"You must sit down and let me serve you – I insist. You do not know how I worried when I heard that you had fallen ill. I feared the worst."

I smiled. "Well, you can see that I am no worse for wear. After all, it was only a trifle cold."

"A trifle cold does not confine you for almost two days, my dear. Please, take a seat. I do insist."

Though embarrassed, I did what he asked. Mr. Eshton brought me the cup of tea and bowl of porridge that I requested, though he really wanted to bring me some broiled fish and mutton chop.

After he fetched his own breakfast, he said, "I did worry, Miss Eyre, since your illness coincided with my good friend's departure."

I blushed. "A mere coincidence."

"Perhaps, but I am sure that his leaving did not help with your recovery."

"Did you talk to him before he departed?"

"Yes, I did. He was in the most wretched state – and understandably so. What an awful business! How I wish I could help him!"

I started, bewildered by his remark. Why could he not help when he was Edward's most intimate friend?

When I asked him this he looked at me kindly, and replied, "Because he made me promise to stay here – he asked me to look out for you."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "I – I am touched," I murmured, "By his kindness and yours – but you should not have agreed, sir."

"Believe me, I wanted to accompany him, but when he told me of your situation – how he feared that his visit might have compromised your position here – I knew that I had to stay. You see, it was I who persuaded him to come to Ardfry in the first place, so if anything should happen-"

"None of this is your fault, Mr Eshton." I assured him, "There is no need for you to be concerned about me."

"But I am, Miss Eyre! Because I care for Edward, who I know cares very much for you, more than I have ever seen him care for anyone. In all the years I have known him I have never seen him as much in love as he has been with you. He called you his soul mate, and I was ever so happy for him – until he told me of his wife."

"Did you not know about her before?"

He gave a rueful smile. "Edward only told me of her before we came to Ireland. I am not angry with him however, as it explains so much about him – why he disappeared to Jamaica, why he returned so embittered, and why he continued to be so – until he met you. No, I am not angry in the least, although I cannot help but pity him. A promising life such as his – wasted!"

"Worse still, sir – I fear that it may be cut tragically short! You do not know what danger he is in – every time he tends his wife he is in potentially risking his life. I may have not seen her, but I have seen first hand what she can do."

He was visibly troubled. "Edward told me about Mason. Were you with him the night he was injured?

"I was. I tended to his wounds while Mr. Rochester went for help. If she could do such a thing to her own brother, then imagine what she might do to Mr. Rochester who must keep watch over her indefinitely!"

Mr. Eshton laid down his knife and fork and was mute.

I continued, "The room where I tended Mr. Mason was right next to Mrs. Rochester's room. If I had not known that there was a person within it, I would have sworn that it was inhabited by a wild beast."

"The beast within…" he murmured.

"Except that her beast has taken complete control. I cannot imagine how exhausting it must be to care for her, never mind how dangerous. It drove Mrs. Poole to the bottle, and she the former keeper of Grimsby Retreat! Mr. Rochester is strong, but I doubt that even he could endure more than a few weeks in that room, let alone months and years. I would help him in an instant if I could, but since it is impossible for me to leave Ardfry it is up to _you_ help him."

"But what about you? You shall be all alone."

"I am not entirely alone. My uncle in Madeira may yet send for me, and I find that I now have distant relations here in Ireland as well as friends nearby in Miss Joyce and Lady Martyn. My situation here is a little tenuous at present but I shall manage. Your friend's situation however is verging on disastrous! So go to him, sir – go to Thornfield – for by helping Mr. Rochester you shall also be helping me."


	20. Chapter 20

_**= 20 =**_

Mr. Eshton mulled over my plan, but before he could reply my master and mistress had entered the parlour. When the rest of the guests followed closely behind, we knew that our opportunity to talk had been lost – but would another come soon?

I sat fretfully as the general conversation turned to the guests' imminent departures. Baron Trench and his family were to return home the following day and with them Mr. Eyre. Lady Martyn and Miss Joyce meanwhile were to stay two more days before they too departed home.

With little time left at Ardfry invitations were soon dispensed, and to my surprise I was also a recipient. Miss Joyce, happy to see me recovered, renewed her invitation for me to see her grandmother. But Mr. Eyre's invitation was altogether grander. He invited me to his family's estate of Eyrecourt early in the New Year, "To introduce you to your Irish relations and your namesake – my mother!"

I was discomfited to receive such an invitation, but when I protested that I could not neglect my duties, my master interjected, "Oh, the whole family will be going to Eyrecourt, Miss Eyre. And since the children cannot do without you, you too must join us." There was no declining the proposal on that score.

After breakfast I went straight to the school room. There, I found the children so overjoyed to see me that they had hardly been more complying. Both Lizzy and Erroll studiously completed the many sums I set for them, and learned an astonishing five French verbs by heart before noon.

At the stroke of twelve Máire appeared to take the children to luncheon, but to my amusement they protested, "Don't leave us just yet, Miss Eyre! Please, _please_ dine with us!"

Since I preferred the relative peace of the nursery to the busy servant hall, I readily agreed.

After luncheon the children spent a considerable amount of time tackling the piano, hence it was not until tea time that I next saw Mr. Eshton – and I observed that he too had not been idle. I descended the stairs to find the entrance hall a hive of activity. Mr. Eshton stood amongst a conglomerate of trunks while the footmen conveyed them to the carriage outside.

"There you are, Miss Eyre!" he exclaimed, "I have taken your advice as you can see and am departing at once."

"I thank you, sir!" I feelingly replied, "You have made the right choice."

"All thanks to you. If I had realised earlier the state of things at Thornfield, I would have insisted on accompanying Edward home. As it is, I shall not be too far behind, though how he will react upon my appearance is another matter. If I know my friend then he will try his hardest to turn me away. Who knows, it might take me until next winter to gain entry to Thornfield!"

I frowned. "Mr. Rochester can be obstinate, but despite this you must persist. You must persuade him that aid is necessary – you must convince him to let you help. He may then yet endure at Thornfield, but alone," I shivered, "I fear that he may not see through another year."

Seeing my distress, he said gently, "You may depend on me to do all I can for him – for I too cannot bear to see my friend suffer."

I looked up at him, saw the earnest determination in his eyes, and was at once heartened. "God bless you, sir!"

His gaze softened at my cry. "You are a good soul. I can see why Edward loves you so. Take good care of yourself, Miss Eyre, and may God bless _you_ in all your life's endeavours."

A minute later I stood on the driveway, alone. Night was quickly falling, bringing with it a thick fog. Having already swallowed up the carriage, the fog now wrapped its damp tentacles about me. I let the frosty air numb the gnawing emptiness at my core, and stood firm until all was inky black. Only then did I return inside, but before I had taken a dozen steps a voice cried, "A moment please, Miss!"

Holding my breath, I turned – to see one of the upper housemaids approach.

"These are for you." she declared, handing me a fistful of letters.

The sight of the letters thrilled me, but although I wanted to rip them open there and then, I held off long enough to fly back to my chamber. Then seating myself by the fire, I eagerly opened the shortest of the letters.

_Dún Laoghaire, __Dec 5__th__, 18--._

_Dearest Jane,_

_Forgive the brevity of this note__. I have reached Dublin in safety and am about to board the steamer for Liverpool. I hope to reach Thornfield within the week. I shall then be able to write a letter more worthy of you._

_I think of you always. __I love you._

_Edward._

As I read and re-read the letter, I pictured Edward cold, alone, travelling hour upon hour through a frozen, barren landscape. I lovingly traced the sprawling scrawl with my thumb, imagining it to be his roughened cheek, his crumpled brow, his icy lips. Closing my eyes, I sent all my love across the ether, as I whispered,

_Fear not, Edward__ – I am near._

It was many minutes before I had the heart to set his letter aside. When I did, I turned to one written in large, bold letters.

_H__olbrook School, York, Dec 1__st__, 18--._

_Dear Miss Eyre,_

_I was ever so happy to receive your letter yesterday. I have read it ten times already. I am sorry that I could not reply straight away. I was going to do so last night but Miss Richards would not let me write in bed._

_I am so glad I can write to you, Miss Eyre. I would have liked to write to Mr. Rochester except that he told me he would not return to Thornfield for a very long time. I wish I can see him because I know he is in need of a very big hug. You see, he was so sad after you went away. He did not smile and did not tell me about bugs and beetles like he used to. Mrs. Fairfax said that he needed a good cheering up but who is going to do that now? Maybe you can write to him, mademoiselle? If your letters can make me happy then why can it not make him happy too?_

_You ask about my school. It is very different from classes with you. The lessons are much harder and the mistresses very strict. I have to concentrate all the time otherwise I have to stand in the corner. I am also trying very hard to improve my English. Miss Richards says that I do not speak properly but when I try to speak like the other girls they all laugh at me. _

_The only person __who does not laugh is Rosette. She is the only one who understands me here. Since her mother is French she can speak Français as well as you. We talk in French sometimes when we are by ourselves. But I have spoken so much English that I am starting to forget some French words._

_I miss you very much, Mlle. Jeanne. You will write to me, won't you? And when you do will you tell me more about Ireland? Is the grass really made of emeralds?_

_Many hugs__,_

_Adèle_

Adèle's letter wrung my heart. While it heartened me that she did not resent my leaving, it equally distressed me to hear that she was having a hard time at school. Her English might have come in leaps and bounds in recent months, but it was obvious that she was still lagging behind the other girls. Now I rued not working harder with her. If I had been given another month or two she might have improved sufficiently – but as it is she must suffer alone.

It also seemed that Holbrook was far too harsh a place for Adèle. I recalled my early Lowood days when I too was cruelly singled out for my deficiencies. I know how cruelty can scar a young mind – I did not want such experiences to scar Adèle's life. But what to do? Only Edward can remove her to a better place, yet he would have no idea of her situation. Given his current difficulties Adèle would probably be the last thing on his mind, but he must think of her – and I must be the one to tell him.

The dinner bell chimed, but though my stomach growled incessantly this past half-an-hour I loathed to move. I compromised by quickly running to the servant hall. Five minutes later I returned with a bowl of oxtail broth and a thick slice of bread and butter. After quickly devouring this warming meal, I opened the last and longest letter – the long-awaited reply from my uncle.

_Funchal, Madeira_, _Nov 2__nd__, 18--._

_My dear niece,_

_Is it true? Are you alive and well? I could hardly believe my eyes when I first read your letter. I had been thinking of my dear brother often of late__ – how I had failed him and you._

"_Take care of my dearest Amy and little Jane." James had beseeched before his death. He had been so ill. With you barely six months old and your mother already too weak to lift you, I could foresee what was to happen. And what did I do? I refused him. _

_In my selfishness, __I argued that I was too young – that I did not want to ruin my prospects – that others would be better equipped to care for you. It was true that I was barely twenty and had lately secured a lucrative post in Madeira. It was true that I had relations that might have taken you in – but how could I have spurned the final request of a well-loved brother? Can you ever forgive a man who had let ambition overrule compassion, who had let jealousy overcome love? _

_We came from humble beginnings, two sons of a D----shire inn-keeper, yet James __seemed always destined for greater things. He had an aptitude for learning that our brother-in-law, the Reverend Charles Rivers, quickly identified. Consequently, I was jealous of his achievements, and how easy life seemed for him. While I worked long hours in the tap room of my father's inn, my brother had hardly to lift a finger while studying under the tutelage of Rivers. While I toiled as a clerk at a wine merchant's office in Manchester, James led a charmed life at Cambridge, meeting and courting daughters of fortune. It was through a Cambridge friend that he met your mother, and within a year of being acquainted they were married. _

_In the meantime, I __did not think of marriage since I had no prospects at all. That was until I was appointed to the company's lucrative Madeira office. It was my first real opportunity to prove myself to the world and I was determined to take it at any cost – and what a great cost it was. _

_I lost my brother and sister-in-law within two months__, and I never saw you again after you were given to Robert Reed. I left England soon afterwards but the next five years brought even more tragedy. By the end of it I had lost my sister – my only other sibling – as well as my mother and father. I was entirely alone. Yes, I had 'family' in Rivers and his children, but we had not kept contact for the simple reason that we have never gotten on. _

_So I was alone on Madeira. __At first this state did not bother me, but as the years passed I began to realise that life without family was worthless. Christmases were especially difficult. In Funchal, each and every house is filled to bursting point with 'família' on Christmas Eve, while mine remained a tomb. I had by this time established a successful business, but I soon realised that on its own money was an indifferent partner. _

_I began to think about James and you__, dear Jane. I wondered what you were like. At fifteen, were you like your exuberant father or your fair mother? I wanted to find out and nearly did when I returned to England for a brief visit. But business matters intervened once more and I was unable to travel to Gateshead._

_T__his setback however did not dissuade me, and upon my return to Madeira I began to think of adopting you. I would offer up my home and guardianship, and finally fulfil my brother's wish. Of course, logic would suggest that it was far too late for adoption, that there was no compelling reason for you to accept. _

_I knew Reed to be a sensible man, a man who loved your mother. He was the only one of her family to attend her wedding after her father disowned her, and the only one to visit her afterwards. I met Reed at your mother's funeral where he had vowed to love you like his own child. Although I knew that he died less than two years later, I had no reason to believe that his wife would think any differently. _

_I was wrong on this score of course, but at the time this was what I believed. Still, I lived in hope until I knew of your true opinion__, so I wrote to your aunt – and received the news that you had died of typhoid fever at Lowood School. I was shocked – shocked not only by the belated news of your death but by the fact that your aunt had sent you away to a less than respectable institution. Typhoid is a disease common to workhouses hence the conditions at your school must have been appalling indeed for you to have caught it. When I took into account the fact that your aunt had withheld my letter from you for so long, I feared what other spiteful acts you might have been subjected to. _

_I__ can only say that I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of your suffering. I may not be able take away any past pain but I will make certain that you shall want for nothing in the future. Unfortunately, I can no longer offer you my guardianship. I have been unwell for sometime, and for the past month have not been out of bed. Seeing that my physician told me yesterday that I may not last the winter, the arrival of your letter was extremely providential, was it not? _

_The next time you hear from__ me may be through my solicitor in London. Mr. Briggs has the task of communicating my final arrangements. Since it is imperative that he reach you, I urge you to make known to him your whereabouts in the next twelve month._

_James was__ a good brother and an excellent, brave man. Now that I know a little of your story, I suspect that you have inherited that bravery in spades. So stay brave, my niece, and may God bless you._

_Your humble uncle,_

_John Eyre._


	21. Chapter 21

**We're back with Edward now... And what will he find at Thornfield?  
**

* * *

**The Tempest**

_**= 21 =**_

It was dusk by the time we passed through Millcote and out into the surrounding vales.

"Not long to go now, sir." cried John, my coachman, as the carriage ascended Thorn Hill.

_He said that to me half-an-hour ago,_ I muttered inwardly, for like a child on a long carriage ride, I was impatient to arrive.

Once I felt the carriage reach the summit, I found myself looking out the window, scanning the shadowed valley below for – ah yes, there it was – the light from the dreaded North Tower. I sank back into my seat, and for the thousandth time wished that I was back in Ireland, that I had not left Jane's embrace. But as it was, an embrace of an entirely different kind awaited me at Thornfield – the embrace of a madwoman.

I felt the carriage fly down towards Thornfield, and soon it passed through the great arch into the lit courtyard. The horses grounded to a halt, and my door was opened by my grim-faced butler.

"Welcome home, sir." he announced ominously.

"Thank you, George." I replied as I descended into the biting cold, "How are things this week?"

"Not as bad as _last_ week, sir." my faithful retainer replied, "But Mrs. Fairfax will tell you everything."

"Yes," I sighed, "I'm sure she will."

I headed straight to my study and summoned my housekeeper. Mrs. Fairfax's demeanour was a little more welcoming than George's – indeed, it was a picture of blessed relief.

"I am glad you are back, Mr. Rochester!" were her first words to me, followed by, "We have been in _great_ need of you."

Her tone made me start. "What is the matter? Has another catastrophe occurred?"

"I beg your pardon; I did not mean to alarm you! There have been no other incidents since Grace's – accident."

"And how is Grace?"

"She is recovering at Dr. Carter's. I saw her two days ago. The doctor said she was doing as well as could be expected. It is only… Well sir, it is the _gossip_."

Gossip? Not unusual under the circumstances – but Mrs. Fairfax was usually able to keep a lid on such things.

She continued, "Dr. Carter kept everything as quiet as he could, but this time it was nigh impossible to stop the talk. All the servants are whispering about the murderess in the North Tower – and they are all uneasy. Many of them want to resign for they are afraid for their lives! I've tried to reassure them but this time they are not listening. Maybe…" She took a deep breath, "Maybe it is best if _you_ address them, sir?"

"Address the servants?" I snapped, "That is the _worst_ that I can do, for it would only confirm _my_ uneasiness! I say let it be, and if the servants want to leave then let them!"

Mrs. Fairfax's jaw dropped. "Let them? But sir, how will I ever find replacements?"

"You will not need to if part of the house is shut up."

"Shut up the house?" she cried, "But sir, Thornfield won't be fit for you to live in!"

I laughed. "Never mind me, Mrs. Fairfax. What? You look indignant. Does that mean that _you_ are also thinking of resigning?"

"Of course not, sir!" she exclaimed, "I have served your family for twenty years and will serve for twenty more if you will have me. I shall see that standards are kept, whatever you choose to do."

Her reply made me grin inwardly. _I have one supporter at least._

"I am glad to hear that, Mrs. Fairfax." I replied, "But let us not think too far ahead when there is still the present to deal with. How has my charge been?"

"Changeable as usual, sir. She was like a wilder beast after the incident. In fact, she was so wild that there was none in the house brave enough to mind her. I had to ask one of the lads from the stables to do the first shift since he was the only one game enough. I thought that he would at least be strong enough to handle her – but sir that was the worst thing I could have done!"

"What? Did she harm him?"

"Not exactly – she, she…" Another deep breath, "The lad, Simon his name is, dozed off because she was so docile that day, and as he described it, he woke up to her doing things to him that he was sure no harlot would even do!"

All of a sudden sharp memories assaulted me – dark memories of primal couplings on steamy Jamaican nights – of raging desires that would not be denied. Fifteen years later, things have not changed at all. Here was Bertha, ferociously taking advantage of her first carnal opportunity in more than a decade. And there was I at Ardfry attempting to do the same – and in the process almost wounding the woman I loved.

_No, things have not changed one bit._

"Luckily Simon came out relatively unscathed," Mrs. Fairfax explained, "But I doubt that he will ever set foot in the North Tower again."

"Then did you manage to find someone? Don't tell me that she has been alone for all this time!"

"Of course not, sir!" she defended, "We did find someone – Dorothy, one of our lower housemaids. She is the only who will go up there now. I was afraid for her at first, but astonishingly she has done well. Your charge seems calmer of late – much calmer. The girl seems to know what she's on about. I think it's because she is used to taking care of her brother, who I hear is not quite right in the head himself."

Her news filled me with relief – and curiosity to meet this Dorothy.

"Then I shall see her tonight," I told Mrs. Fairfax, "But not before a bath and some dinner."

"Of course, sir – I shall see to both right away."

Two hours later, freshly bathed, fed and watered, I climbed the spiral staircase to the North Tower. I clutched my candle, my form casting lurid shadows as I ascended. Halfway up, I stopped. All was silent – so silent that my ringing ears were deafening in comparison.

At the top of the stairs, I unlocked the outer door and stepped into the small anteroom. I stood by the inner door for some minutes, listening – but on the other side all was ominously still.

I unlocked the door. I entered as softly as I could – but not softly enough. A scraping chair, a rustle of garments – a figure rose sharply – and approached.

Who was it?

One step closer, and my candle illuminated a figure of a woman – no, a girl.

It was hard to tell, but she must have been sixteen or seventeen – but she was tall and sturdily built.

"Dorothy?"

"Yes, Mr. Rochester." she answered.

I cast my candle about the room – saw Bertha sleeping on the pallet in the corner, her long hair strewn every which way.

"She has been out for most of evening." said Dorothy, "She had some dinner and a little of the phial that Dr. Carter gave, and she was asleep in minutes."

_Minutes?_ I thought, _That must be some powerful sedative that Carter prescribed._

I said to her, "Mrs. Fairfax says she has been calmer since you have taken up watch. She commends you – and so do I."

The girl looked faintly embarrassed. "Thank you sir, but frankly I don't think it's due to me at all. She hasn't been angry since I looked after her. She's been well – normal – so I treat her like I would any other person."

"Normal?" I questioned.

She nodded. "She likes to talk she does, but there is nothing wrong with her mind. Talks of far away places, sometimes in some foreign language. She even tried to teach me some. She knows there's something wrong with her, knows that she's done wrong. She is very sorry for it."

"Sorry?" I cried, "Now that is a first. Do not listen to her, Dorothy – she only tells lies!"

"If you say so, sir – but there is no harm in listening. I think it eases her mind to talk to someone who really listens. I do the same with my brother Johnny, who also likes to talk, although he talks more wildly than she does. If I don't let _him_ talk he turns our cottage upside-down!"

Her diagnosis was incredible. Bertha normal? Preposterous!

_But __how long has it been since you have spent more than five minutes in her presence?_

In truth, a very long time.

_Then how do you profess to know her?_

I sighed. "If it calms her then by all means – but I bid you to beware. She may be lucid now however her moods can turn very quickly. By Mrs. Poole's reports, they are more changeable now than they have ever been, and when she turns she can be difficult to handle, as Mrs. Poole found out – and she with twenty years experience."

"I will take care, sir."

I nodded. "You have done well – so well that I would like to make this position more permanent – at least until Mrs. Poole returns. Given that she seems to be more active at night, I propose that you take the day shift – from seven in the morning till seven at night. I will take the remaining hours. Meals will be brought to you, and of course, you shall be well compensated – at Mrs. Poole's rate of pay since you are doing her work now."

Her eyes widened. The servants were obviously familiar with Grace's rate of pay.

"Do you accept?"

To my surprise she immediately said, "Yes sir – I do."

"Are you not daunted – frightened by the prospect?" I asked, perplexed, "You may be well-paid, but this is very tough and very dangerous work."

But my questioning did not faze her. "I understand sir, but I've helped look after my sick brother since I was five. I know what I need to do, and I think that I can do it."

I paused and studied her. She gazed back stoically, for a moment reminding me of –

Shaking my head, I continued. "Very well. Still, I will be on hand at all times. A person will be posted outside in the anteroom who will fetch me if ever you need assistance – and I stress, any assistance, however small. In the meantime, I will tell Mrs. Fairfax to find a replacement for you downstairs while you are here. Now go and get some sleep – you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

She curtseyed and departed from the room. I locked the doors carefully behind her, and then leaned back heavily against the solid wood.

What will the long, dark night bring?


	22. Chapter 22

_**= 22 =**_

The night brought little at first. Bertha remained unmoving, unconscious. In contrast, I was in jitters, my mind racing, my limbs craving exercise after a week's sedation. I looked at her sleeping form. I could not afford to wake her – yet I had to do _something._

Slowly, slowly, I began to pace the room. As I walked, I concentrated on breathing in deeply, willing my recalcitrant mind to slow. I ran a hand over the uneven stone walls, the smooth marble mantlepiece, the angry slashes desecrating the wallpaper. When I came to a red silk scarf that had been tossed aside, I picked it up, carefully folded it, and placed it beside the sleeping woman. Then despite myself, I looked at her.

It was the first time I studied her in years – and the years had not been as cruel to her as I imagined. In sleep, her face was unlined, unblemished. Her skin had kept its golden sheen despite a decade spent indoors, and her hair, though unruly, was still long and lustrous. Neither had her body faded away. She was as curvaceous as she had been in her youth, and a stranger might have thought her handsome – desirable.

An echo of emotion, a whisper of what had been a roar, reverberated through me. I had once been rendered dumb with desire by what lay before me – but I now knew better. Her beauty was but a mask for her ugly mind – her putrid soul.

_All of which you are still chained to._

In repugnance, I dashed back to the hearth. I focused instead on its homely flame as it flickered, waxed, and then waned. I stared, stared until only the dim glow of coal remained, until the grotesque images of Bertha and the other amours I had courted dimmed with it. In their wake, I thought of the only glimmer of hope I had.

"Oh, Jane." I whispered, "Help me."

"There is no one to help, Edward."

I spun around – to find Bertha awake.

I swallowed. "Hello, Bertha." I replied warily, "Did – did you have a pleasant sleep?"

She chuckled and sat up, her mane of hair wildly askew. "I did – and I feel even better now that you are here. I have waited _years_ to talk to you, so do not expect to be going anywhere soon."

Oh Christ. What was she up to?

I steeled myself, willed myself to show nothing, and replied, "Very well. I am all ears."

Her grin widened. "But you are still afraid of me, I see. After all this time you are still a coward."

My anger rose. "Anyone would be after what you have done! First you tried to burn me in my bed, and then you attempted murder – twice!"

To my surprise, I saw her face fall. "Yes, I did all those things – but you must believe that it was my sickness acting, _not me_."

I could see madness seaping from her pores. That girl Dorothy must be a simpleton to think her sane. There was nothing sane about Bertha tonight.

"What on earth do you mean?" I vehemently spat.

She looked straight at me. "Are you willing to listen – to believe – to understand?"

I had no patience to listen to Bertha's wild ramblings, but neither could I risk agitating her, particularly when we must face many more nights in each other's company. I had to keep her calm, and if listening was what it took then be it.

"I am listening." I answered.

Bertha returned to her pallet and sat down. She took up her blanket, which she wrapped tightly about herself, before saying, "It is strange for us to talk like this, without the demon hissing in my ear. He always hisses when you are near, but today – nothing."

All this talk of demons only proved her insanity. But I must remain calm. I must try to listen as I had promised.

She continued, "You know I have never been well. Ever since I was a girl, I have always had fits of passion. It would come suddenly, and in a flash I would become very happy, or sad, or worst of all, angry. Then the demon would whisper in my ear that I can do _anything _– and I do it. Papa said it was a sickness of my soul. He sent for Father Augustine many times to cure me, but when that failed Papa locked me away. I was not allowed out of estate even to see my friends – that was until you came along. Then I was treated like a princess. I was given beautiful dresses and jewels, taken to parties and balls. I was very happy, very grateful that you married me – but I was not at peace…"

She paused, trembled as she recalled an awful memory. When she finally continued, it was in a tone so hushed that I had to crane forward to hear her.

"Papa … He made me swear that I would never tell you about my illness. He said that if I ever told you, he would kill me."

I grimaced inwardly, for Bertha's tale did not surprise me at all. I could easily believe that Jonah Mason had no qualms about betraying his family, just as he had no qualms about double-crossing the Rochesters. The man thought that all the world was his personal chessboard. And his object? To conquer society. What were Bertha and I but mere pawns at his disposal? In the end, we were powerless to counter his manouverings, to alter our fate – in the end we were slain.

Bertha recollected, "I kept silent, but that only made the demon grow louder. Even on our wedding day he told me the most horrible things – that you thought me dim-witted and a whore, that you had many mistresses and would take them whenever you liked."

She looked at me imploringly. "Was he telling the truth?"

"Christ Bertha," I exasperated, "I was but a boy when I came to Jamaica. I barely had had a lover before I married you. There were no other lovers – "

"There were! I saw you!"

"_Three years later_ – when I was at my wits end! You hardly knew what you were about most days. I could not live in that hell without any scrap of comfort."

"So you broke your vow to love me, or…" Her eyes widened. "Or you never kept it at all – you never loved me!"

"I _wanted _to love you, I _tried _to love you," I defended, "But you cannot deny that you flaunted yourself like a harlot, even before we were a month married."

"The demon told me that you were making love to your mistresses behind my back." she insisted, "He told me to seek revenge – that it was only right that I took my pleasures as you had taken yours."

"Then I am sorry that you obeyed him. It was the worst thing you could have done since you made it _impossible _for me to love you!"

"But you vowed to love me!" she cried, "You told me you would care for me in sickness and in health! Yet when I grew sicker you took me away from the only home I knew. You took me away from the warm breeze and the blue sea, and kept me prisoner in this cold place. And while I was locked away you roamed the world."

She stared sharply, fiercely. "You thought you could escape me, didn't you? You thought that if you could forget, you would be free. But you are not free!"

"I _am_!" I declared, "I have no one that I call 'wife'!"

"You think that I don't exist?" she questioned, throwing aside her blanket and standing tall. She took one step, and then another until she was but a yard from me.

"I will prove to you, to _everyone _in this house that I exist! That I am your wife!"

"You will not leave this room." I growled, "And even if you do shout it from the rafters, no one will believe you!"

"I only need one person to listen to me, to believe me. One person – and you know who that is."

I froze.

Dorothy. She would listen. She would believe.

Bertha must have glimpsed my panic, for she chuckled gratingly. "Dorothy is such a sweet girl. She deserves to know the truth."

"You don't know what truth is. Do not dare to play your dirty tricks on her."

"If she is to be my keeper she deserves to know everything about me. I know you like your secrets. Half of this house thinks that I am your half-sister. That girl Grace called 'the governess' did not even know I existed!"

She grinned disconcertingly. "Yes, I know all about her. I watched you with her in the garden. I watched your smiles. If she knew the truth she wouldn't be smiling at you. Oh no, she would see you as you truly are – a liar, a coward, and a bully!"

Would Jane think that? Would Jane be so compassionate if she had witnessed first-hand my countless acts of aggression? Would she have loved me if she had seen me drunk, reckless, and utterly dissipated?

_You know the answer, Rochester – she would not. _

There was no hiding my pain, and Bertha happily wallowed in my discomfort. "Oh Edward, you pathetic thing – you loved her, didn't you? Yet not enough, since you could not tell her the truth."

_But I have__,_ I wanted to reply, _she knows all about you._

_And look at where that got you, Rochester!_

Bertha took one more step until she was but a breath away, and stabbing her finger into my chest, she hissed, "When will you learn that there will only ever be me? Only – me?"

Rage.

I grasped her shoulders hard. I shook her until her body went pleasingly limp.

"I have kept my end of the bargain!" I cried, "I have listened to you! If this is your way of proving your sanity then you have failed miserably. You are no saner than you were ten years ago – nay, you are worse since you seem determined to become a murderess – and I will not have a murderess for a wife!"

"And who made me a murderess?" she asked, "_You _did!"

Bertha tore herself from my grasp and fled tearfully to the window. She flung it open, letting the Arctic wind flood the already chilly room. She sobbed into the night, "You locked me up and walked away! I might have gotten better had you cared, but you do not care!"

"You ungrateful – !"

I bounded to the window and wrenched her around to face me. "If I did not _care_ I would have left you in Jamaica to rot! If I did not _care_ I would have thrown you into a mental asylum, where no one would care whether you lived or died! I have given you all the care I am capable of – and you tried to kill me!"

"I told you, it was my _sickness_ acting, not me!"

She sighed. "Let me speak plainly – I am getting sicker by the day, but to get well I need to get out of this room. I don't care if you still call me your half-sister, but I need to go outside into the sunshine. I need good food to eat, kind people to talk to. I can no longer live like a caged beast. I need to be _human_! Release me, treat me kindly, and I am sure I will get better."

"You are not going anywhere, you understand?" I seethed, "For all I know you might attempt to kill _all _my servants if I release you – and I will not put anyone else in this house at your mercy!"

"But I will get worse if I stay here – and I will do worse!"

"All the more reason to keep you here!"

She stared up at me, tears glistening down her cheeks, large black eyes full of – fear.

Eventually, she said, "You don't know how big a mistake you are making."

"I have made it – and I am resolute."

"Then prepare for the consequences." she warned, "Prepare for hell."

* * *

**As my enthusiastic readers from C19 know, this is where it ends - until I get my muse back for JE fics. I'm on holidays pretty soon so hopefully I can grind out that elusive Chapter 23...** ** In the meantime, reviews/suggestions are much appreciated!**


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